Bring the Snow
by Bellatrixbeauty
Summary: A witch. A witch child. That is what they tell her she is, so that is what she is. Someday this weary witch child will grow into a weary witch woman. She will become an exorcist, a guardian, and perhaps, with luck, a friend.
1. Chapter 1

**BB says: **Well, this was my first fanficiton ever and I'm revamping it now. So hello my old fans, and I hope to like the changes. And good day to my new fans, who I hope will follow along.

**Rating: **This one may be K+, but this story grows to be teen.

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of _D. Gray-Man, _anime, manga, or merchandise. Nor to I own any part of the poem, "Bring the Snow."

"_January brings the snow/ that makes our feet and fingers glow,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

Her song was finished, she took a bow. Everyone in the crowd applauded -the girl had a beautiful, powerful voice- but the end of the song was the end of the spell; people once more found themselves staring at a performing gypsy child. A massive part of their hearts felt pity, for this was only a child and thus naïve to the harsh reality of the world. A world that, upon remembrance, they had no part of. She was a pauper, street scum. The poorest of her audience possessed more than she would ever know.

They threw a few coins at her, mostly made of wood, dispersing without making eye contact with this object that caused both pity and disgust. One man, smirking, dropped his coin on the ground near his feet, its shiny surface coddled in the snow. The girl wasn't a fool, but she couldn't let the shiny copper go untaken. She reached for it, hand dirty and cold from living on the streets, face concealed by the ratty cloak she had found in the sewers. It had once been a quality garment, but had long since been stained the browns of blood and dirt and sadness. Like the girl herself.

The man stomped on her hand, smirking at the hood of her cloak. "_S'il vous plait_," she begged pathetically, holding back her mounting rage. So much power. So much fury. She felt it mounting inside her, scratching at the edges and demanding release. But she had no idea how to accommodate such a thing. How to extent herself to a limt her body seemed insistent upon.

So she was meek. And mellow. And pathetic. Because she wanted to be strong but couldn't be. Not when it was so much simpler to be silently resentful.

Grinding her hand once more into the wintry slush, the man turned away, spitting as though the sight of her had sickened him. Apparently he had grown bored with her sniveling. The young girl cradled her scraped and bleeding flesh, greedily gathering the coins with the other hand. The money was deposited into a simple cloth bag she had concealed beneath her cloak, and she made ready to depart.

"Where are you off to?" The voice was calm and soothing, a soft smile hidden with the words. Turning sharply the girl noted the strange man who had failed to depart with the end of her song. His face was covered by the shadow of his hat, but she could see that he had forgotten to shave, and a soft smile was whispered upon his lips. She didn't trust him. To much kindness.

"_Commen_t? _Je ne sais pas. Je ne parle pas anglais._" Perhaps he would go away if he thought she only spoke French. They were in Paris after all. It had been the girl's desperate shelter. From the traveling caravan that had feared her for her unwanted witchcraft. She was cursed for her sinful magic ways; that was why both her parents had been slaughtered. Such a creature was only welcomed begrudgingly, out of fear of what she would do if shunned. And she had sensed their fear. Their hatred. So she vanished. No one searched for her.

She disappeared within the large populace of Paris, hoping to find a nice, quiet hole, and slowly rot away. But her body's damn need to survive kept leaping into her path of self destruction. Kept her scrabbling on the filthy cobblestones and fighting other peasants.

"I said, where are you off to? _Où allez-vous?" _The man's smile didn't falter, and there was a chuckle to his question. The girl screwed up her face. Run? He didn't look like her would chase her. He look like one of those "kind gentlemen" who would put her into another orphanage. Where she was scolded for defending herself against the taunts of other children.

"Are you hungry? _Tu faim?_" He knelt to her level. "I was about to return to my room. If you would like, you could spend the night there too. It'll be warm." The girl stiffened. Oh. He was one of _those _men. Now she should defiantly run. As though sensing her mounting panic, the man soothed her. "Now now, don't you worry. I won't touch you if you don't want me to. We performers have to stick together in this tough world, and I would hate to discover you frozen later." She didn't answer. Her stomach mumbled a complaint, but she was all to ready to ignore it if it would save her life. A voice broke through her contemplation.

"Mana!" The man looked back, smile increasing several levels as a small, brown haired boy ran up to them. "Allen. Did you get lost again?" The boy looked angrily defensive. "No! I just…there was a candy shop and…who's she?" The girl hid deeper in her hood, wishing to disappear. A soft curtain of flurries fell from the sky and melted on her freezing toes and bloody fingers. "I don't know. But she looks like she could use warmth and food. Come on along, if you like." The man…Mana took Allen's hand and entered the inn behind the girl. She waited several seconds before following.

The inn was lively and warm, mugs of beer and glasses of wine prominent. The husky scent of bodies and sweat permeated the heady smell of stew, heavy laughter and singing flitting about the room. No one noted the little urchin girl making her way into the inn, eyes glancing about wearily. She followed Mana and Allen to their room, waiting paces behind to be invited. She would accept rejection. As she had accepted it her whole life. "Well, aren't you coming?" The boy, Allen, had a heavy British accent, and was looking right at her. His glance was nearly as suspicious as her own. She slowly entered the room.

Mana was placing their bag onto one of the beds. "Would you mind sharing a bed with Allen then? If not, I'll sleep on the floor." The girl blinked before giving a single, curt nod. "Good. Well, Allen and I are off to eat. I ordered some warm water for you to wash up." She gave another nod. They couldn't abandon her in the inn if their belongings were with her. Perhaps she would simply take the suitcase and leave anyway.

The inn keeper's daughter appeared, a steaming pitcher of perfumed water and a cloth in her hands. She tried to stifle the look of dismay and apprehension that all people gave the girl, and smiled stiffly at Mana. Who, in turn, shot the girl a reassuring glance.

"I'll see you at bedtime." And without Mana there to smile at, the serving girl had no problem abandoning the urchin to fend for herself.

The young girl peeled back her hood, taking off the cloak after what felt like years of wearing it. She blinked, inspecting herself in the small, foggy vanity in the room. Wide, lavender eyes blinked back at her, marking her as a witch, her sallow cheeks marking her as an urchin. Greasy black curls bounced down her back, the black of ravens' wings; black and purple and blue and green when held in the light. Her fingers -crusted with dirt but a deep mocha all the same- grasped the cloth, rubbing herself fast and hard. She didn't want to be seen without her hood. Her hood was safety. It was hidden.

If she was someone else, anything other than a gypsy and an urchin, her light eyes and her dark complexion would have made her enchanting, a beautiful child to grow into a beautiful woman.

But she was so she wasn't.

There was a knock at the door, and she realized, in a panic, that her hood was still tossed at her feet. Allen entered upon her grasping at the fabric, trying to hide like a child behind a blanket.

She felt him take her in from head to toe and back again; purpled muddy toes, ragged dress, long black hair, set chin with trembling lips and terrified purple eyes. His eyes paused on the dimly glowing bands on her arms and in her ears. She hoped he wouldn't try to take them; she couldn't take them off, and she'd tried!

Allen just sighed, shoving the bowl at her. "Here. It's lamb." She nodded stiffly, edging toward him carefully. He didn't move, stiffly holding out the platter like she was a frightened animal that could possibly bite him. As soon as she was close enough she snatched the bread from him, tearing into it viciously. It was gone in seconds.

She took her bowl and sat on the nearest bed, noticing, for the first time, that Allen had brought his food too. His eyes darted away and back, daring her to speak. "I don't like the noise downstairs. So…I'm gonna eat up here." She didn't busy shoveling stew so hot she was burning herself but just hot enough to almost make her forget the slush of her gutter. All she could do was blink at him and hiss as she burned her tongue.

Allen sat beside her, careful to keep the space between them in tact. After a few moments of eating (Allen ate with the same desperate intensity that she held) she spoke.

"Father?" Her accent was deep. She was a river-girl, a gypsy whose who life had been on the waters that flowed through France. English was not her native tongue. Allen started at the sound of her voice. "You speak English?" She nodded curtly, still waiting for his answer. He blushed a bit under her intense look, too intense for a child of eight, but he refused to look away. "No. Mana's not my da. He…picked me up, I guess. But I don't have any parents." The girl chewed a tough piece of lamb, working over his answer. No parents? He was an orphan…a piece of street scum too? She was more comfortable knowing this.

"What's your name?" She blinked. It didn't matter. "Zahara."

"No surname?"

"Non." Curiosity flashed behind Allen's eyes, although he had once again started vacuuming up his stew. "You're done already?" Yes. Zahara's bowl was empty. She wasn't hungry anymore, not that he was offering her his food. The boy was acting more starved than she was, and she hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours.

"Where's your mum and dad?" Ah, the inevitable question. She acted like she didn't hear him. Because she didn't like to talk about that night, that terrible night of hiding in a fallen tree and hoping that the men who had killed her father and were doing bad, bad things to her mother wouldn't find her. Too scared to even _try_ to save her mother. So scared…too scared…

Allen didn't ask again.

The night in the inn was the most peaceful Zahara had had in a long time. There was no chill, not with Allen's warmth right beside her, and Mana's loud snoring was comical and reassuring. She would've smiled, but her lips had forgotten how to.

Zahara would've liked to stay, really, truly. Pretend this was her bed and Allen was her brother and Mana her father and she was surrounded in warmth and love. Never again be forced to wander the streets in the dead of winter and hope someone had enough pity to place a coin into her prematurely calloused hand.

A mother to kiss.

A father to smile.

A brother to protect.

A sister to hug.

And maybe a little dog. Just for love.

How many times have these thoughts kept her warm in her gutter? And how often had the winds swept them away, out of her grasp and out of her sights?

At midnight, when Zahara was sure both kind visitors were in deep sleep, she took her leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**BB says: **Hi! Um…nothing to say really…

**Rating: **Teen. Seriously.

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own D. Gray-Man. Do you really think an 18 year old who can barely pay for school owns a popular manga?

"_February brings the rain/ thaws the frozen lake again,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

Beautiful. It was the first thought that occurred to Zahara, seeing the blonde woman for the first time. She was the most appreciated type of beauty in those days; creamy, pale skin, blonde hair, deep blue eyes. Her pouted, pink lips were set in a fashionable frown, and she observed Zahara with something akin to curiosity in her eyes. She was quite obviously of well breeding, this woman who came to be known as Madame Nyne.

It had been several years since Zahara had seen Mana and Allen. Her cloak had been thrown away as her limbs grew too long, her hair was a tangled mess of dirt, dandruff, and knots, and she was still weary of strangers. She wore the same dress, although now it was of scandalous length on her, and somewhere along the line she had found old, tattered shoes with more holes than not. The bangles in her ears and those on her arms were a constant, although she would've liked to sell the strange material to feed herself.

At least, she had wanted to before meeting Madam Nyne.

Over the years Zahara had claimed her own area in Paris, marking the territory with her brutality and chilly nature when faced with the other child beggars. They feared her strangeness and they had a rumor that she could curse them by looking at them. A rumor she supported if for no other reason than they would leave her alone. But it was this solemnity, this self-induced solitude that she so cherished, that left her without anyone to turn to when nightmares became reality.

Somehow, someway, for some reason monsters attacked her after one of her performances.

Zahara still had no appreciation for her life, didn't care if it was taken from her as long as it was fast and painless. She no longer held dreams of a family and a house and happiness, and her chapped lips remained in a set, somewhat distasteful little line. When Nyne found the girl, cowering in a filthy ally, surrounded by the corpses of the monsters, the gypsy child had snapped and snarled like a wild animal. The little monkey, who Zahara learned was Lau Shimin, snapped and snarled in kind, although Nyne quickly silenced it.

It took Madam Nyne two weeks and many meals to convince the young girl she wasn't in danger, and even longer to convince her to travel.

"Not magic. Innocence."

The "Innocence" as Madam Nyne called it was in her bracelets and earrings, which had grown with the girl. It was dubbed Beastly Beauty; her touch poison to akuma, and the bracelets could engulf her hands in gauntlets for enhanced strength. The earrings had abilities yet to be discovered, although they appeared to be made of the same type of innocence. When Zahara activated her bracelets, the hoops in her ears would only hum lightly, waiting for her to use them properly.

Madam Nyne made her new pupil spar against the powerful and very fast Lau Shimin for practice. The mutated monkey, with more experience in innocence and more violent tendencies defeated Zahara every time. Nyne would stop the fight before the girl could die, treat her injuries, and send her in for more. "Dodge. If you can't find the weak point, dodge. If they can't catch you, they can't kill you." Nod, nod, of course, course. Zahara had respect for her new Mistress, and this respect fueled a need to earn the woman's respect.

The older woman was kind (or not quite cruel) and spoke fluent French. Zahara sought to please her and even be like her; the longer exposure she had the more she realized she needed the contact with the general. Madam Nyne _fed _for her. _Protected _her. Maybe even _cared _for her. Zahara felt a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time being with the woman. But it didn't show. Zahara's demeanor couldn't change. Lavender eyes continued to take in the world with a bored and somewhat pessimistic gaze.

The young gypsy was forced to develop speed, coupling the skill with her own natural agility and the stamina from running the streets. She gained her master's ability to remain cool in battle and her sparring partner's relentless offense. She learned to read and write and dance (although her dancing was uncultured, as put by Madam Nyne).

Upon arrival at the European branch of the Black Order, Zahara quickly developed a relationship with the Japanese exorcist Kanda Yu. Or rather, a toleration. They had the same antisocial tendencies and biting words (though perhaps Kanda was a bit more…vocal) and though neither could really say they wanted friendship, it was silently agreed that they were not enemies. Zahara was one of the few people that could work in sync with the Japanese exorcist, as it was their common goal to be quiet and efficient on missions and during meals.

"Teacher?"

"Tiedoll."

"Nyne."

"Hn."

"_Bien sur _(of course)."

And that would be enough conversation for the two of them.

They were often joined by Lenalee Lee, the science department's sweetheart. Her eyes were so blue they were almost violet, and her hair was an oddly beautiful green in the sunlight. Zahara appreciated the light hearted conversations Lenalee brought the table, but made no move to become close to the girl. Aside from her own personal insecurities regarding such a popular and soft hearted girl, the gypsy could not see the relationship ending in anything other than corruption. She had no interesting in spreading her guarded ideals and honestly didn't want to become hope riddled and kind.

Upon meeting Lavi, Zahara was given a new name. "Z! I'm gonna call you Z!" And it stuck, to her original dismay. Even Kanda began to call her that.

"Z."

"What?"

"Training."

"_Oui_."

"Hn."

If Lenalee was warmth, Lavi was a torrent of fire, not so different from his anti-akuma weapon. He was so bright he almost burned Zahara by being in the same area, and it took her time to become used to the shower of bright emerald green he boasted.

"Z! We got a mission together! You ever been to Spain? I have and they have the best food. I swear we gotta eat at every restaurant they have because you'll love it! Oh! We'll be there for Valentine's Day too and so I'll get you some roses and-" Z glared.

"It won't be a date! I swear!"

"Hmph."

"Ha! Ya totally."

Lavi spoke fluent Kanda, so of course he could speak Z.

Zahara had been in the order a little over a year when Allen Walker walked up to the gates. She recognized him immediately, despite the hair and the clothes and the eyes. That guarded, fiery look was still there, though was now muffled by layers and layers of what appeared to be good intentioned naiveté. His face was softer and somewhat calmer, little puffs of his breath floating in front of his mouth. Zahara glared at him through the screens, wondering what this appearance from her past could possibly mean.

She stayed in her room all day, leaving on a mission the next morning, not allowing that boy to see her. The mere sight of him reminded her of dark days and cold nights. Of starving and resentment and raw, bloody survival.

She hated humans.

And yet she fought in a war for their existence.

Hmph.

It was best they not meet again. But it is rare that life works out for the best.

Before the month was over, she ran into the boy she had been desperately trying to avoid. Slipping out of her room, briefcase in hand, she was looking forward to a relatively simple mission, one filled with many rest points and an agreeable populace. It didn't appear as though there would need to be an outlandish amount of effort on her part, a fact that pleased her. Nearing the docks, she heard a loud sneeze behind her. Allen Walker, who had recently returned from Moscow, where he had fallen into a thawing lake, excused himself.

Z found her thoughts traveling familiar paths. Run? The boy probably wouldn't give chase…

The order had given her a cloak instead of a jacket, and just as before, she hid in her hood, staring at her toes. She hated him all the more for causing this awkwardness. Allen's head tilted to the side, grey eyes inspecting her from head to toe, in a nostalgic way. His eyes paused on the shadow of her hood, as though he could she her face hidden in the darkness. "Hello, I don't believe we've met," he spoke with engrained warmth. Z noticed he had the same cautious walk as before, but he tried to hide it behind the gentle smile pasted on his lips. His nose was red and stuffed from his obvious cold, and it reminded her, briefly, of a clown. Z didn't say anything as he held a hand out to her.

"My name is Allen Walker."

Madam Nyne had taught her politeness in any and every situation. No matter what. Nyne wasn't there to witnessed her pupil's actions, but her teachings forced Z to act before she could stop herself. She reached for Allen's hand, opening the cloak and revealing her lower body. As her hand grasped his -his hand was calloused, slightly warm with fever- his eyes paused on her bracelet, smile falling in the wake of wonder. Confusion, recognition, and then more confusion danced in grey eyes. "Ah! You're-"

"Z."

"What?"

"Mission."

"_Oui_."

She dropped Allen's hand, turning away as he reached for her. She didn't think he had the courage to call after her. The gall to see if he was correct in assuming she was the urchin child that had runaway in the middle of the night. It had been far too long and it was far too likely he would be mistaken. It was a fool's gamble.

"Zahara." It was a test call; he was trying to see if she would turn. She didn't. But she did stumble a bit. And that, she scowled from the recesses her hood, would be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own D. Gray-Man or the poem "January Brings the Snow." I also don't own Disney World…sadness.

**Rating: **Teen for language. Cover the children's ears!

"_March brings breezes sharp and shrill /shakes the dancing daffodil,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

Madam Nyne would be proud. Z danced around Allen's presence with all the grace and agility that had been taught to her. It was almost as though she could sense when he was coming, a warmth spreading over her back and into her knees, telling her to flee. And no matter what she was doing -eating, talking, reading- she would turn and retreat, escaping as she heard his voice enter occupy the area she had once been.

_Le gar__çon avec les cheveux blancs _(the boy with the white hair) had become the pet of the Order without Z even noticing, easily sliding into place like he had any business being there. His earnest ways were inspirational and insistent; he grew to be loved and appreciated for his kind ways and comedic naiveté.

Only a select few remained hostile.

Kanda.

"Moyashi."

And Z.

"_Imbécile _(fool)."

His optimistic personality and welcoming smile won hearts and minds, stirring the fires within the Order that had long since been reduced to smoldering embers. For the first time in years, the popular belief was that they could win. They could win the war against the earl and his demons. Allen spread his belief and dreams all over the Order, a disease that infected the open minds and hearts of the members. Right arm for good, left for evil.

He loved the demons.

And yet he killed them.

Hmph.

_Imbécile._

Z had no interest in such beliefs.

It was Komui who unintentionally cornered Z. The girl glared holes into his forehead despite his ignorance of her evading game. "Apparently it's unnatural for it to be so warm this early in the year." Z raised an eyebrow as Komui took a sip of his coffee. "I know. Strange weather does not mean Innocence. But Z, with a temperature pushing one hundred in _march_ you have to admit something strange is happening." Z sighed, standing. "Leaving?" Komui held out a folder detailing all that had been found in the boiling village, including snapshots of wilting plants and the sun burned citizens. There was nothing about where the Innocence was suspected to be, meaning that it was unsure if it was there in the first place. "Your partner will meet you at the boat. Good luck." Z nodded, lifting her suitcase. She usually came to briefings ready to leave immediately.

She could only think of her distinct hatred of the Chinese man as she sat on the train, watching her partner look over the folder. Massive, burning, hatred that twisted and pulled at her. "So they don't know where it is?" Grey eyes flickered to Z. She blinked in response and Allen sighed. "I guess we're on a scavenger hunt then?" Z blinked again, noting how his thick British accent had faded over the years. It was now only a slight inflection on certain words. She wondered if her accent had done the same. She let the cabin fade into uncomfortable silence as she pondered and thought.

"Why did you leave?" Z's eyes opened without her having realized she shut them. Allen was gazing at her in what could be considered defiance, as though daring her not to answer. She sighed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," her words were spoken with a chilled precision that made lesser men back away. Allen merely furrowed his brow in irritation. "Don't be childish, Zahara. I'm afraid it's too late to hide who you are. You have a unique appearance." The gypsy scoffed. "Unique? Is that the polite way to say I look strange? If so then don't bother sparing my feelings." She watched the British boy bristle. "I did not say you were strange nor was that what I was implying. I just find it hard to believe there are two people in this world with Innocence like that." Ah, Z understood that. It was the same way she knew him by looking at his face. Something about his stood out in a way she couldn't name.

And it wasn't his Innocence. She hadn't even known about his left arm.

"Zahara," she pulled from her reverie, noting that his irritation had only grown in her silence. "I want to know why you left."

Z snorted. "_Pourquoi _(why)? Why did I go? Don't be stupid, Walker. Why would I have stayed? What could a traveling performer and his young urchin have possibly offered me?" Allen set his jaw. "A life, Zahara. We didn't have much, but you could have-"

"Joined you? I heard that misery loves company, but the very idea of sharing anything with anybody sickens me. You had your world, I had mine. You were nothing but a free meal to me." Allen's bristling kindled into a flame. "You didn't even take a chance to make your life better. With our performing and your voice, we could have attracted twice the usual crowds. You never would have been on the streets again."

"I prefer lonely streets to crowded inns; I hate people, and anyone who loves them as much as you and," she twisted her face "Mana. There are no redeeming qualities of this world."

"That's not-"

"Deny it! I dare you! You were once like me right? Orphaned? Abandoned by the world for something you couldn't help?" She noticed him unconsciously clench his left hand. "And for what? Because everyone hated you? Hated what they couldn't comprehend? Don't tell me a few _precious _years with your _precious _Mana has blinded you! This is a dirty, nasty world, full of dirty, selfish people and I hate every single one of them." Z grit her teeth and sat back. "Being with you two would have just reminded me of that fac-"

"Enough!" Allen finally snapped. She had seen him fighting with himself, struggling to stifle his temper, and it pleased her to drag it out of him. "How can you say that? After the kindness Mana showed you? How can you claim to hate everyone and everything and still be a part of the Order? Still fight for the humans who wish to have no part of?" Z snarled, leaning forward. "Because I have chosen a side. And I'll be damned if I lose. Even if I have to protect selfish, ignorant meat bags." Allen looked deep into her eyes, and she knew he was searching for something. Lament? Shame? He would not find it.

How easily he forgot the gypsy hunts that ran unhampered a decade previous. Burning boats. Burning carriages. Burning people. Gypsies were not liked. They were barely even tolerated. They were thought to be devil worshiping thieves, and nothing they did to prove themselves to be otherwise ended well. And when one had seen what the young Zahara had, felt what she had felt, only then could they even be privy to the depth of her resentment. A depth Allen only briefly glimpsed looking into her eyes.

"You are an awful person," he muttered in near disbelief. She smirked as his words glanced off her. "I know." They were silent the rest of the trip.

Off the train and into Hell. That's what it felt like. Within minutes Allen had shed his coat and the Finder looked ready to faint. Z did her best to resist the urge to shed her own garments, the thought of being exposed too terrifying for words. The cloak felt so secure, so hidden away. She hated having to look people in the eyes, especially when they could see hers. No one was outside, attempting to hide their burning faces from the sun, but still…

The Finder was very willing to take their cases to their room as they questioned the populace. Knocking on doors, breathless and lethargic people appeared, hardly sparing the energy for pleasantries. The lake, they said. This insufferable heat began just before monsters invaded the forest around the lake. Thanking them, Allen used his tie to pull back his hair, and Z dotted her forehead. A lake sounded heavenly. Z would fight her way through an army of akuma for the water just beyond them.

They had hardly walked out of the village when Allen's eye throbbed. Z jumped a bit in shock, watching black and red conquer the original white and grey of his eye. She knew he was cursed, Kanda had already told her that, but she had never seen it in action. A scope-like device activated itself, the eye moving independently of the boy's will. "Akuma," he said softly.

Z activated her Innocence, relishing in the cooling sensation the bracelets brought as they sank deeper into her flesh. The lines of Innocence raced down her arms, ending at her shoulders and finger tips in intricate, glowing lines.

A few of the akuma had yet to shed their human appearance, faces and arms contorted into guns and other weapons. The level twos taunted and teased the exorcists, attacking in measured strikes. Z watched Allen fight as she defended herself, watching his face grimace as he parried and stuck in measured attacks. Dangerous. Serious. A twinge of respect ached at the back of her mind, but she pushed it aside as a level two grabbed her punch lifting her into the air.

"OH~HO! I got one! HA HA!" One of its six tentacles pinned her arms to her body, another stabbed through her hood, trying to break her skull. It caught empty air as she thrust her head to the side, the tentacle cutting her face shallowly. All at once the akuma froze, its face crumpling in disbelief and anger. Circles of Innocence appeared all over its body, her poison destroying it from the inside out. "WAHHHH! NO! I JUST BECAME A LEVEL TWO!" It dropped Z as it burst into dust. It had been floating several stories in the air, and she prepared herself for the pain of impact. It never came.

Freeing himself for an instant, Allen caught her in his fleshed arm, his cannon blasting away another akuma. "Get off!" Z snarled her response before he could ask his question, leaping out of his arms and onto another akuma.

Corpses littered the ground, the houses bordering the village in ruins. It didn't matter. From what Z's suddenly fuzzy mind could deduce, these akuma had been the only residents of the buildings. "I guess that means that we're closer than we thought." Allen's shirt was ripped in several places, blood bubbling up from a narrow gash in his side. He stood tall, using his eye to sweep for more akuma before turning to Z. He didn't smile. He didn't offer Z his fake smiles and she didn't want them.

She barely registered the ground rushing up to meet her.

Clumsy, nervous fingers stumbled over the clasp to her cloak, finally pulling it open. The person halted, their heart picking a new, faster beat, the harsh breathing by her ear stopping before she was lowered onto a mattress. A mattress? She jumped and opened her eyes when something cold touched her head.

Grey?

Allen.

Her eyebrows lowered, automatically moving into a scowl. Allen frowned back, but concern ruined the effect. "You could've told me you weren't feeling well Zahara." his eyes narrowed. "Heat sickness isn't weak. It is a bit careless though." She scoffed, snatching the wet cloth from his hands. It felt nice, even if she resented being owing him a favor. They glared at each other a moment, interrupted when their Finder spoke. "Master Walker."

"Allen, Leo. My name is Allen."

"…Allen. Please allow me to treat your injuries now that Mademoiselle Zahara has woken up." Z's eyes widened a fraction, recognizing the scratches and dried blood on Allen's face and hands. He hadn't even changed his shirt. "_Imbécile_. You get an infection and you'll slow us down." Allen curled his lip. "_I'll _slow us down? And I suppose your need to _nap _in the middle of the mission was wholly beneficial?"

"_Pardon? _Are you not the same boy who proclaimed that heat sickness isn't weak. Chose a side, fool. I would have preferred you left me in the sun in any case."

"Look you-"

"Master Walker," the Finder interrupted their fight again "your injuries." Allen grit his teeth and shot Z another glare before turning away. She smirked at his back.

They were back in their room, the Finder's eyes flashing between her and Allen curiously. She snarled at him and he scurried to get the first aid kit. He had to move Z's cloak to get to it, and, with a poorly stifled gasp, her hands flew up to her uncovered face. Allen looked at her as her scowl deepened, a light smile twisting on his lips at her discomfort. "You almost burned to death in that thing. You should be thanking me." Z scowled so hard it hurt.

"We need to hurry up and go after the Innocence." Her voice cracked from thirst. dust caking her lungs. "It's not safe. You." Z cut her eyes at the Finder, who jumped a bit. "Hurry your ass up." Allen frowned at her rudeness, but didn't disagree.

The last remaining akuma, surrounding the Innocence, were all level twos. They were huge, brandishing shields and swords and claws. They snickered and heckled the exorcists that had appeared to challenge them.

Z was relieved they hadn't found the Innocence yet, easily catching a massive hand that sought to tear her apart. She wore only her off the shoulder white blouse, long black pants, and sandals. Her black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and several more earrings and bracelets gracing her ears and arms. Lavender eyes were narrow and almost almond shaped, giving her a cat-like appearance, and her once cracked and pale lips had filled out with the rest of her body. Despite her lack of exposure, she looked to be growing into a very respectable young gypsy.

While Allen's style of fighting akuma was based upon blocking, Z's was dodging. She danced around falling bullets and swords, skimming past dangers with all the grace that was in her blood. Guitars and drums could almost be heard in time with her movements, an invisible scarf upon her shoulders, her "uncultured" dancing turned dangerous.

They won. As Z knew they would. A large, glowing rock caught her eye as she tossed the final akuma. And they found the Innocence. As Z _hoped_ they would. Sweat stung her eyes and scrapes, bruises made themselves known as she bent to retrieve the gently glowing substance. She tasted her blood from biting her tongue and there was a considerable amount of mud in her hair and she had jammed her finger and twisted her ankle.

The moment Allen's golem (what sort of name was Timcampy?) swallowed the Innocence, a chilling breeze blew through the air, shaking the budding trees. Z shivered, pouting. Stupid weather.

The village dropped at least thirty degrees overnight, continuing into the next day. The people were considerably more friendly, smiling and waving as Z and the Finder made their way back to the train station. "This is…interesting," the Finder muttered, a random stranger trying to sell him a hat. "I suppose everyone's livelier since the weather's back to normal. I feel much better as well.". Z made what may have been a noise of agreement. The train gave a long whistle, signifying its depart. "Where's Master Walker? He's going to miss the train." Z didn't say anything. That fool had wandered off somewhere in the bustling village, and she had no intention of spending another day just trying to track him down. She turned to the train's steps, ready to board, as something golden shot into her path.

She almost crushed it with Beastly Beauty.

Tim fluttered in front of her face, almost grinning (if it had lips) before flying into her hood and settling into the warmth of her hair. She scoffed at it and turned to see Allen standing behind her. He was breathing heavily, the bandage on his face peeling from his flushed and sweaty face. Where he had gone, where he had run from, she wasn't sure and didn't care to ask. "What is that?" But she didn't ask just what the Hell he had will him.

A bouquet of yellow flowers on green stalks, smelling fresh and sweet. They were withered somewhat, which Z thought to attribute to the heat of previous days, but they almost glowed in their brightness; golden yellow. Z frowned, but only because she didn't know what else to do. "These?" Obviously. "A woman stopped me. She insisted on giving us something as thanks and," he stood the bouquet. Z smirked. "A man who has been given flowers? All you need is a pretty dress, Walker." The boy blushed indignantly, glaring. "It's no like I asked for them. And I think it was rather kind of her."


	4. Chapter 4

**BB says: **I may be getting a new car! It's a mustang! I'm so excited I could throw up!

The times and occurrences in my fanfiction do not match those in the manga (at least I don't think they do). I am aware of this so no need to tell me about it.

**Rating: **Teen for violence. And cursing. Don't like, don't read.

**BB says some more: **MUSTANG! WOOOOO! XD

**Disclaimer: **I don't own D. Gray-Man, nor the poem "January Brings the Snow." I do own a sweet little dog with a deep seeded fear of water. He has major issues…

"_April brings the primrose sweet /scatters daises at our feet,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

Z hated April for two reasons. The first (and most prominent) was Lavi's fetish for pranks. The first of April gave him the excuse to pour itching powder in shirts, leave buckets of ice water over door ways, put dye in shampoo, etc. It had become such a problem that most people took to hiding in their rooms on the cursed day, hoping to whatever entity was listening that Lavi wouldn't select them as his next victim. Z herself would have rather jumped in the path of a carriage driven by a blind, drunk, and mentally comatose man rather than talk to Lavi on that day.

The second reason was her fierce allergies. Z was allergic to most pollens and April led to the blossoming of primroses, her greatest foe. Her nose was a faucet and her ears were in a constant state of stuffy. There was no relief; it was only made worse when Komui offered one of his invented cures. So she had to hide from the mad scientist as well as a joke driven _lapin _(rabbit).

On an April sunrise, a day most people would have thought beautiful, Z woke up grumpy in her new bed in their new castle. Another birthday had come and gone; both Allen and she had aged. She saw him from time to time, even went on missions with him. Their conversations were no where near as short as she wanted them to be, and they still argued more times than not. His masochistic tendencies pissed her off, and her indifference to the suffering of others left him miffed and ruffled. Komui must've had some twisted sense of humor, shoving the two of them together again and again.

She hated humans.

She fought for them

He loved akuma.

He killed them.

Hmph.

_B__âtard. _(Bastard).

It had been only a few months since Allen came to her (or rather, to Lavi and Lenalee. Z happened to be in the area) his tail between his legs. He asked to be killed. For them to destroy him if he ever lost to whatever sort of demons he had lurking in his subconscious. Fourteenth. Z scoffed silently. She confronted him afterwards.

"_Bâtard. _You already condemn yourself before even knowing what the future holds. You have no fight in you. If you want to roll over and die, do it on your on time. Don't expect me to save you." Z had a start to some sort of argument. She knew how to handle an angry or offended Walker. But this new boy that stood before her, barely concealed pain and confusion in his eyes, merely took her words and cradled them in this heart. He didn't defend himself. "It'll be easy for you then?" He muttered, smiling bitterly at the ground. "To do away with an annoyance like me if needed?" Z frowned, confused and pissed and helpless. They turned away at the same time.

_B__âtard._

So they hadn't spoken in months. It wasn't hard. Their table in the mess was a very social place (much to Kanda's vexation) seating Krory, Lenalee, Miranda, Lavi, Chaoji, Link, Allen, and Z all at once. There was no point in time when they _had_ to speak to each other and it wasn't like they made an attempt to do so. There were plenty of people other than Z for Allen to talk to.

Stretching, Z threw her feet out of bed first, allowing her upper body to slouch on the cushions. Already she could feel fog invading her nasal passages; cotton was stuffing itself into her ears. How irksome. Z considered just laying in bed for the day but what would that solve? Just Lavi and Lenalee coming by to make sure she was okay when all she wanted to do was sleep away the woes of April.

Instead, she slid out of bed and moped to the training grounds. On her way, she ran into Howard Link, Allen's personal stalker. He nodded in recognition before continuing on his way back to the boy's room. He was an odd one. Z held no special love for Link or his higher ups. The third exorcists they created had proven themselves to be more of a burden when they were most needed. The Alma fiasco never should have happened, would never have happened if they hadn't tried to splice human and akuma. It was a crime against nature to do so. And yet the Black Order believed itself to be above everyone and everything. How irksome.

Under normal circumstances Z liked to spar with Kanda. He, like herself, was fast and agile, proving a worthy opponent by countering most of her attacks. Lenalee was too gentle, Lavi too silly, but Kanda didn't hold back. Kanda didn't care. And Z appreciated this aspect.

The new castle the order had moved into was spacious and stone, housing not only more rooms, but a larger mess and indoor training room. Despite this and her allergies, Z preferred training outside, in the elements, because that's where most of her fights with akuma took place. Why would she train in the shade when she battled enemies in the Sahara? She wanted to be prepared for all situations.

She usually started simple for her warm up. An hour of the yoga Klaud had taught her, ten laps around the castle, and scaling the northern wall with her bare hands. However, half an hour into yoga, as she was "a tree worshiping the sun" Z felt another presence.

She stifled a moan and cracked an eye.

Walker had wandered onto the field, glancing about like a lost child. The freshly risen sun, still glimmering in shades of orange and berry, were caught and held by his white mop, silvery eyes looking somewhat tired. Noticing Z, his mouth set in both dislike and vague surprise. Z closed her eyes again, prepared to ignore him and hoping he would return the favor. She felt a twinge of embarrassment at her revealing attire -loose black pants and sleeves top, barefooted with hair in a high braid- put spared the feeling no thought. After a few heartbeats, Allen walked directly into her line of sight.

Z knew of the long scar he had given himself with his own sword, but her eyes still wandered to the tiny bit at his neckline as he approached. He hadn't bothered to pull his hair back, and it was pointing in odd angles, like he had only recently rolled out of bed. "Kanda isn't here today?" Z allowed her eyes to fall shut again, giving her head a short, rude shake. "Oh." More silence. He watched her pull into another pose. She was aware of the cool glance of Link upon them. "We sometime spar together you see. I was hoping to catch him."

"You didn't."

"I realize."

More silence. The calm silver eyes were starting to bother Z. "You came here to train as well, then?"

"_Training _grounds."

"There's no need to be sarcastic. I was merely going to suggest-"

"That we spar? Together?" Allen seemed surprised that the former gypsy was thinking along the same lines. "So you're considering it."

"Don't sound so desperate." He wrinkled his brow in agitation. "Desperate? Please. Perhaps I _prefer_ training alone and was merely trying to be considerate?"

"Or you're scared I'll kick your ass." She said it like it was nothing, knowing she'd stepped onto his pride. Now Allen looked sincerely miffed, a look Z scolded herself for missing. She would have to remember to try harder to get him to drop his calm fascade. Allen's frustrated sigh made her re-focus on him. "You make it hard to like you when you act like this."

"Bite me." Allen threw he towel away pulling into a stance. "I'd rather _fight_ you." Z smirked, a recently acquired change to her demeanor, straightening her body and cracking her neck.

"_Bien sur." _A breeze stirred the field, spreading daisy pollen and petals. Link held a pen and pad ready.

And they began.

Z attacked first, using her own strength and agility. The harder, coarser training involving innocence would come later. She had awoken a new aspect of Beastly Beauty, extending into her entire body instead of just her arms, and she couldn't wait to try it against the evolved Crown Clown.

Although she was able to avoid many of his strikes, when he did hit her, it _hurt_. And she did her best to hurt him as well. Neither one of them were fighting a comrade, they were fighting an akuma; for their lives and the lives of those around them. Holding back would have been an unnecessary burden.

It was when Allen used Clown Belt to trap her that they started using innocence. He was already sporting a busted lip and the makings of a black eye; Z had several bruises lacing her ribs and a cut on her neck. Activating Beastly Beauty, Z broke free of her confines and came at him again.

They fought longer than Z had ever fought with Kanda, taking mutually understood water breaks and breathers. They fought for hours, their muscles screaming and their stomachs growling and their breathing little more than harsh grunts of pain and effort. Z's hair sprang free of its tie and Allen had removed his shirt. Link had taken a less strenuous position leaning against a tree. Hard, gritty looks on their faces, blood in their eyes. It was the nature of fighting, true and raw.

The two had gained an audience as the day wore on, cheering and goading them. They ignored them. Lenalee was biting her lip and Lavi was shouting in favor of the winning side. If there was a winning side. They appeared to be evenly matched.

Finally, after six hours of sparring, a mutual punch leveled them both. They fell to their knees, leaning on each other for support, breathing into the neck of their opponent. Lavi and Lenalee approached cautiously, like they expected the exhausted warriors to leap up and engulf them in their fury. The crowd stirred a moment, paying bets and grumbling, before disbanding.

"I'll keep fighting," Allen panted into Z's ear, tired muscles twitching against hers. It felt odd to have anyone this close. She could feel his heart in her chest; smell the masculine scent rolling off his body. "But only because I don't know any other way." If they hadn't been pulled apart at that moment by a concerned Lenalee and an amused Lavi, maybe Allen would have felt Z smile into his neck. For the first time in a long time, her lips curved into a luscious, tiny, half moon.

But not one saw it.

Z soaked in the baths for a long time after that, body scolding her for being so careless. Pain was nothing. She could take the sweet soreness provided from a worthy battle. She had wanted to spar until she beat him, not until her body quit.

Careless. She was going to be sore for her next mission.

Didn't care. Worth it.

She felt really good. A nice work out was able to do that for the naturally aggressive girl.

Z limped to a late lunch, what could've almost been an early supper.

Allen was there. The only one at the table.

They didn't speak.


	5. Chapter 5

**BB says: **Sorry it's been so long. I try not to write unless I have an idea of some sort. If you try to force your way out of writers block it always ends up messy :P.

**Rating: **Teen for violence and Z's mouth. You know how it is. Fighting demons is very stressful.

**Disclaimer: **_It is a cold dark night, the wind blowing ash and soot through the air. A girl stands alone, her feet bare, her face blank, shivering as she watches the flames. She doesn't register the sirens and the screams around her, she only has eyes for the fires engulfing everything. A blanket is thrown around her and coffee is offered. She tries to give a smile, twisting it upon her dark face. They ask her questions. How did the fire start? How many people were in the apartment building with her? Was she feeling woozy or sick? A stove left unattended, everyone made it out, she was rattled but fine. The last question they asked caused tears to gather in her eyes. Miss BB. Do you own D. Gray-Man? She whimpered. No. This girl does not own anything that awesome. Do you own the poem "January Brings the Snow"? She is crying in earnest now. For no, BB does not own that either. _

_They pat her back to comfort her as a spontaneous billionaire offers to pay for all the damage. And to buy her a car._

"_May beings flocks of pretty lambs /skipping by their fleecy dams,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

Ronda, Spain was hot. Not quite as hot as Z's first mission with Allen, but still relatively uncomfortable although she had long since upgraded her uniform.

She no longer had a hood with her uniform, which irked her beyond all reasoning. She covered her hair with a black scarf, allowing waves of coal to cascade down her back. Her jacket was similar to that of Allen and Lavi, with trails of red and gold, but her sleeves flared at the end to leave room for her innocence. She had fought and bitten her way into loose pants instead of a skirt, but her dark leather sandals remained her trademark foot ware.

Z was sent to Ronda due to an odd occurrence happening amongst the animals. Apparently large numbers of bulls and cows were entering comatose states; keeling over suddenly in the middle of grazing and other cattle activities. They weren't dying or sickly. They maintained regular breathing patterns and lacked heart palpitations. No one knew what was wrong with them. They looked for all the world like they were sleeping.

So Z was sent to investigate, along with a young man by the name of Kevin. He had curly brown hair and a lopsided smile complete with dimples. In one train trip he had told Z more than she ever needed to know about the family he left behind and his hobbies. His favorite color and food and animal. He didn't seem to stop for a breath a single moment they were together.

Z sighed in relief as they reached their destination.

The people were relatively welcoming, used to tourists because of their bull fighting tournaments. The village was made of stone and metal, old fashioned masonry and tradition claiming this area as its own. It was split down the center with a deep gorge covered by a slight and rickety bridge, with fields and pastures available for sheep and other herding animals to prosper.

The amount of Spanish Z spoke was zip to nil, so Kevin was expected to do most of the talking. From what was gathered from friendly, laugh filled conversations, the bull fights had been canceled due to this strange occurrence in the animals, and the arena was closed temporarily while the problem was solved.

"They say although it happens in all the herds, it started during bullfights. The prized bulls went, and the rest quickly followed. It's even happening in sheep now from what I can gather."

"_Oui." _

"We should check the arena. Since it started there it's more than likely the source of this, no?"

"_Oui." _Z had already thought of that. It was unfortunate that she couldn't speak the language, or she would've strolled off like she preferred. She wanted the Finder to go back to the inn and leave her be alone to find the innocence. He could at least to stop talking. He was oblivious to her death glares and the fact that she was ignoring him skimmed over his head.

The stadium was large and ornate, sand upon its floor. Pillars of white stone held up layer upon layer of the spectators' chairs. Flags of yellow and red spilled from the sides, the scent of animal stink still in the air even without the bulls present.

"Where should we start looking?" Z spared the Finder a glance before leaping out of the spectator area and onto the soft ground below. The setting sun cast a rainbow hue upon the sands, Z's footprints leaving solitary marks in her wake. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary; no glowing, no howling, no akuma. It looked so naturally peaceful Z felt out of place.

"Seats." Kevin jumped. Apparently he had been watching her; a blush graced his face when she turned to him. "What?" Z's eyes narrowed. "Check the spectator area, Finder."

"Y-yes. Of course." She scoffed at his nerves and returned to her own investigation. It was so quiet she could hear her own breathing, the soft footsteps of the Finder echoing in the stands. She scooped a bit of the sand into her hand, allowing it to run through her fingers. It wasn't heavier than normal sand, and maintained a constant, grainy state.

A brief flicker of something floated into her peripheral vision. Z neared it, curious as to what it could be. The closer she stepped into the shadows, the more she saw there were many of the things, softly flitting above the ground. Bats? Moths? Butterflies? The sudden end to her Finder's footsteps jerked her body around, the dark butterflies suddenly flying straight at her. Z leapt away from them, swatting and squashing them, ripping those that bit her away from her flesh. They chased her around the arena, forcing her to dodge and evade them before searching for her Finder. He screamed, and the evil insects lost interest in Z, flying high into the stands.

A man stood at the top, absorbing the butterflies into grey hands and arms. He tossed the very still body of Kevin to Z's feet. "I believe that belongs to you." His voice was low and sultry, an echo of danger and foreboding cradled in his words. Yellow eyes smiled at Z behind dark curly hair, but he was forcing his lips into a sarcastic smirk as he gazed at her. She glared back, undaunted.

"I didn't expect a woman to come here. I was expecting someone completely different. You must excuse my surprise." Z didn't answer, watching him jump from his high point to land, gracefully, in front of her. "Won't you come closer, exorcist? I don't think we've met." He took an imaginary hat off his head and swiftly bowed. "Tyki Mikk. A Noah, if you couldn't tell already." Z blinked.

"Zahara." Tyki smiled wider. "Ah. Lovely name. It fits you, someway." Z didn't answer, walking over to inspect the body of Kevin. Blood dripped down his chin, but his body was free of any harm. His eyes were open in shock.

She thought she remembered hearing of this method of murder when Yeeger was killed. Interesting to see up close, but this didn't lessen her anger at the loss of her Finder.

"You killed him for finding the Innocence." It wasn't a question. Tyki smiled pleasantly, scratching his cheek. "Well I couldn't very well let the Order have it, now could I?" As he lowered his arm, Z noticed a scar not unlike Allen's peeking from behind his revealing shirt. "You expected Walker." The smile fell off his face. "Yes." Z was glad she'd taken this mission, sending Allen somewhere across the continent. In Tuscany, Italy.

The smile returned as Tyki spread his hands out to his sides. "But I suppose you'll have to entertain us now, woman. You can feed my Teez for me." Z stiffened. Black butterflies once more began to fly out of the Noah's body, more numerous and faster. Z activated her innocence, poison freezing the Teez into stone as they touched her body. "I'm not Walker," Z made her voice calm, deathly cool. "But don't underestimate me, _bâtard._" The glowing veins of Innocence lacing her body glowed brighter as though to support her point. Tyki scoffed a harsh laugh, putting his hands on his hips. "You're a parasite type?" The Teez formed blades on his hands. "Then I'll have to destroy you to destroy your Innocence. Not that I wouldn't anyway."

Tyki lunged forward, brandishing his dangerous fists, aiming for Z's throat. It was too obvious an attack; he was still gauging her power levels. She danced around his hand, pivoting against his back and kicking him in the neck. He went flying into the stands, but disappeared into them instead of crashing. The Noah emerged seconds later, brushing himself off nonchalantly. "Innocence is the only thing that can touch me in this world. Everything else is inconsequential." He straightened his clothes. "Such inhuman strength, might I add, is very unladylike." He dodged as Z created a crater where he had been standing.

She kept coming after him, delivering a feint right followed by her dangerous left hook. She jerked her upper body forwards, bringing one of her powerful legs down upon his skull. As a finish, she landed she fired a formidable punch at his chest, hearing quite a few ribs break as he went flying back.

Despite her onslaught, his infuriating and bloody grin didn't leave his face. "Impressive. Very impressive. You've combined your agility with your Innocence's capabilities, giving your attacks even more damage." He wiped his mouth. Z clenched her fists. "Die." Poison gathered at her finger tips, preparing for the attack known as Spindle's Needle.

Z flung the poison, in the form of little arrows, off her fingers and towards Tyki. His eyes widened and he almost dodged all of them. One buried itself into his chest, the others melted the surrounding sand into glass. Tyki collapsed onto one knee, gasping. "My poison will make _slow_ work of you, Noah. Enjoy agony." Z turned her back on him, walking away. He had probably destroyed the Innocence before confronting her but she would check anyway. The gasps slowed and disappeared behind her.

Sudden chuckles drifted towards the female exorcist. "Wha-" Something resembling a barbed tentacle tore through her body, pinning her to the side of the arena. Z was too shocked to feel the pain, although she could feel the blood squeezing around the thing imbedded just below her rib cage.

Tyki was back on his feet, his wound sizzling as he burned off the poison. His eyes were glowing, his smile so stretched it almost touched his ears. "Aw, damn," Z gurgled, spitting out a clod of blood.

Tyki moved too fast for her to catch, another tentacle pinning her hand to the wall behind her. Z felt it this time. She shrieked, struggling harder. The awakened Noah reached forward, grabbing her free hand and licking the blood off it. Z shivered in disgust at the childish thought of "Noah Cooties."

"Put me down, asshole." Z's words were choked and low, although she was careful to keep pain out of them. She brought her leg forward, kicking against his kneecap and hearing the bone shatter. Using her element of surprise, she kicked him with all her strength, forcing him away from her.

Tyki's chuckle became a loud, boasting laugh as Z staggered to her feet. "_Vous l'avez perdu, n'est pas _(You've lost it, huh)?" Tyki licked his sharp canines, charging Z again, she leapt back and up, into the stands behind her. She rolled out of the way of a glowing energy ball that was fired at her, wincing as her side injury screamed. She refused to look down at it, lest she be discouraged, but one glance at her hand told her she wouldn't be able to use it properly for a few weeks. If she survived.

Another blast destroyed the seats behind Z, knocking her onto her face. Her injured hand collapsed beneath her as she tried to get up. A tentacle shot through the ground, wrapping around her neck and smashing her into the overhang above. She blacked out momentarily.

Z woke up held in front of Tyki's face, his fanged grin beaming at her. The tentacle around her neck didn't tighten, but the newer one, the one that hadn't been there when she fainted, was crushing her torso. She heard a meaty snap as a bolt of pain flew up her body and she screamed. Z wondered, through the bright ribbon of pain that wrapped around her thoughts, how many ribs he had broken while she had been out.

He snapped another before she could black out again.

She tried to scream, but choked on a bubble of blood at the back of her throat.

Tyki brought her closer, licking blood from the corner of her lips.

"Lovely," his sultry purr had become a husky growl with his transformation, and Z fought to stay awake. She couldn't.

Losing her life or her mind, Z reached out for something, anything. Her bloody hand extended skywards, attempting to catch the moon, the only witness to her suffering. She couldn't cry out and she couldn't fight back.

Her vision went white.

White, white, white.

White like death.

And then it was black again.

Someone was bending over her, blocking the rain that had started to fall.

Z thought is was Tyki, waiting for her to wake up so he could torture her some more. She didn't have any fight left, but still she tried to die faster to rob him of his fun. Then she realized the person was praying.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God._

Their prayer didn't consist of anything more.

Her shirt was torn open, and she whimpered as they applied pressure to her stomach injury. "Z? Z! Oh God, Z." She tried to reply, but she couldn't breathe. She was drowning. She could taste the iron in the back of her throat, sloshing in her lungs. It was coupled with the all consuming _pain_ with every expansion of her chest, and her body was all too willing to quit.

Soft, chapped lips descended upon her own. They were so warm in comparison to the chill that she felt creeping up her body.

They breathed into her, filling her lungs despite the agony, pumping on her chest to encourage her to continue to live. Z didn't have the strength to whimper again nor the air to scream. So she let the person breathe for them both until they had pumped most of the blood from her lungs.

"Italy?" Z opened her eyes a crack, enough to see him. Allen didn't pause, easing her as gently as possible onto his lap. Her blood rouged his lips and his cheeks and his hair. She had bandages on but knew it wasn't enough. She knew she was really hurt.

Allen gave a soft chuckle, and she could feel it in his chest as he pulled her even closer. "Don't worry about it Z. It's taken care of. I was on my way back to headquarters when I got on the wrong train and ended up here. Only me, right?" He gave a weak smile. "I'm glad I got lost though. So glad." Z hummed, eyelidss falling. "Z! No! No sleeping. I'm going to get you help." She realized they were moving, slowly but swiftly. Allen was searching for a doctor but trying not to jostle her. She wanted to tell him it was okay. Everything was starting to go numb anyway.

Allen was knocking on doors, asking questions in Spanish. Z didn't know what he was saying and it bothered her that she hadn't known he could speak the language. "_Merde tête _(shit head)." Allen chuckled again.

"I've studied French, Z. I know enough to know you've insulted me." She would've responded, but she felt blood filling her lungs again through punctures made by broken ribs. She shivered and felt Allen's arms tighten around her. "Z? No Z! NO!" Another door opened. Warmth and a man in white bustling them in, worrying in Spanish.

Z closed her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**BB Says: **Thanks to all my loyal fans out there, I was encouraged to hurry my slack self up and publish another chapter!

**BB makes cookies: **No, you can't have any.

**Rating: **The usual. Teen. For language, violence, and very mild sexual themes. It's like when you buy that taco seasoning that's supposed to be mild, and all it tastes like is salt. Seriously, I like it _mildly hot_ NOT SALTY!

**Disclaimer:**

_What is it in a word_

_That can make you believe?_

_Can hurt you_

_Oppress you_

_Heal you_

_Mar you_

_Label you_

_Teach you_

_Keep you_

_Help you?_

_Strip you_

_Guard you_

_Raise you_

_Change you_

_Poison you_

_Set you free?_

_I don't own D. Gray-Man_

_Or the poem._

_Those are words._

_Duh._

"_June brings tulips lilies roses/fills the children's hands with posies,"_

_~ Sara Coleridge_

"Well sweep me off me feet and knock me on me bum." The man spoke with a thick cockney accent, one that Allen understood because of his past life in London.

The round little man wore a faded black bowler hat and a stained shirt stretched over a round belly. A cigar was caught between yellowed teeth, and his breath stunk of rotting meat and ale when he breathed smoke into Allen's face.

"Ee says 'e's lookin' for a woman." The fat man nudged the equally intoxicated man beside him. The latter was tall with greasy hair and a thick red nose. His grin revealed gaps where his front teeth should have been. "I cn getcha a woman, if that's all ya want," the taller man taunted. "We 'ave the finest 'ores in all of London, we do!" Allen's patience was quickly running out; someone who knew him thoroughly would've noticed the distasteful little twitch that had appeared upon his brow.

He had grown into a tall, handsome young man of eighteen, with bold grey eyes and long, white hair held back by a black tie. His eyes held the same determined look of his younger years, accented by a strong jaw line and soft baritone voice. He had gained height, taller than Lenalee but not quite as tall as Lavi, and he had started wearing Timcampy on his head in a style not so different from Cross.

It was a month ago when he had gone on that fated mission to Italy, allowing Z to venture out on the mission that should have been his. From what he had gathered, there had been a rather nasty run in with something a little more than akuma, and while Z had proved the victor, she was in horrible shape by the time he made it to her.

He didn't think. He thought he had lost consciousness at the mere sight of her so broken.

When he was processing thought again, she was in his arms, eyes open and taking him in. Her look of disinterest was gone, replaced by a whimsical, almost childlike curiosity. He may have smiled at her; he couldn't quite remember the rest of that night. He remembered the rain, a weakening heartbeat, a dazed voice insulting him with her last, whispered breath.

Z could insult him for the rest of his life if she wanted. As long as she lived to do so. Allen wanted to memorize the contours of her face -pretty purple eyes with long lashes, little nose, full lips, high cheekbones- but he was terrified. It would be like admitting she was going to die.

The little man known as Doctor Felix looked grim. His thin pencil mustache was hidden by a bloodstained surgical mask and dark, receding hair was slick with sweat. He gave Allen a pitying look, asking him to sit and calling to his wife for tea. Allen's knees creaked. He had been pacing for the entire five hours Z had been under the knife.

Allen didn't know much Spanish. He only knew enough to understand and make himself understood.

Felix didn't know much English. Period.

The girl was stable. Period.

How long she would remain as such was unknown. Period.

If she would make it through the night was unknown. Period.

Would he like to see her? Silence.

Allen's bloody hands gripped his cup tightly, lips sucked between his teeth. He took his tea straight, no sugar or honey, but it was warm and smelled sweet.

He was suddenly reminded of Z and felt bile rise in his throat.

Allen had never, ever, wanted to see Z in such a state. Without her hard outer shell, she was a seventeen year old girl again, dying in his arms and gripping his shirt to keep herself grounded. Her pain was so evident on her usually passive face he felt it in his soul although she fought not to cry out. It seemed to be a point of pride for her. Allen found himself a strange mix of weary and protective when Z was so vulnerable; he wanted to both hold her close and push her away.

"(Yes. Thank you)."

Allen loved the soft, creamy brown of Z's skin. The way she nibbled her lips when thinking. Her small, powerful hands. When she woke up and regained some of her color, he vowed he would tell her one day just how much about her he thought was beautiful. Although it would most assuredly result in her injuring him in some way.

The first week was Hell. The Order arranged passage for Z back to Headquarters and Allen spent the entire time concerned any bump, wave, or breeze would finish her off. When he gathered the courage to hold her hand it was icy, and her skin was a ghostly pale. She was so still he wasn't sure she was breathing, her face was folded in on itself in defense against the world. "Z?" It was a struggle to talk. Although Felix told him it would help, at least a little, for her to hear a familiar voice, Allen didn't want to jostle her in any way. Even verbally. "Z? This isn't going to beat you, right?" No response. Not even a flicker behind her eyelids.

Link was still there, as always, but he seemed to be out of character. While he still scribbled on his pad the first few days, he wrote less and less, eventually not at all. He joined Allen in watching Z's still form, his eyes narrowing at their held hands.

Allen refused to leave her side for five days after their return. On the sixth day he was forced to bathe by the Head Nurse. Even then he merely washed the blood and sweat from his face and changed clothes, eager to be by Z's side again. She was bitter and mean and arrogant and selfish, but the thought of her waking to an empty room haunted him.

"Z? This isn't going to beat you, right?"

Sometimes Lavi and Lenalee sat by the bedside, bringing the sleep deprived boy and his keeper coffee and company. Their eyes would flicker from the still faces of Allen and Z to their joined hands. Lenalee smiled. Lavi grinned. Allen blushed. Every time they brought an extra cup of coffee, unspoken encouragement for Allen. Z would wake up to drink it with them.

"When she's not frowning all the time, she's kinda cute." Lavi spoke after half an hour of silence. His fire red hair had grown long, and he braided it tightly at the nape of his neck. He nervously twirled his hammer between his fingers, unsure how to provide comfort. Allen took a sip of his coffee.

"I've been wanting to ask you a question for a while now, but I don't know how to phrase it."

"What?" Lavi scratched the small goatee he had grown. "You and Z know each other right? I mean, from when you were kids?" Allen nodded, confused. "So does that mean she's English too?" Allen blinked. "No. We met in France."

"And she was born and raised there?" Allen nodded again. Lavi stood, cracking his back with a stifled groan. It was just him today; Lenalee was gone on a mission with the quieter-than-usual Kanda.

Lavi gathered the dishes and Z's untouched coffee in ponderous silence, not speaking until he almost had the door shut. "Then why do you talk to her in English?" Allen blinked, unable to think of a response before the red rabbit shut the door. It took his sleep deprived mind a good thirty seconds to process what his friend had said.

Allen sat very still for an hour after that, focusing on gathering what little French he knew, trying to compose a sentence. He would've asked Link for what he knew, but the man seemed distracted as well, spinning his pen between his fingers and holding the blank pad on his legs.

Allen had been mistaken all along. He couldn't be gentle with Z if he expected results. She was too stubborn to be moved to accommodate him, and even in her comatose he should have known better than to ask politely for her life. Zahara only responded to confrontations and flattery; challenges were a game for her.

Trying to overcome his nerves, Allen leaned in close to Z, moving the curly black hair from over her ear. It was as soft as it looked, if not more so. Her Innocence glowed dimly in her ears, no longer bright teal but a still and muggy grayish blue.

"_Ne soyez pas entêtés. Réveillez-vous ainsi je peux voir vos jolis yeux de nouveau.(_Don't be stubborn. Wake up so I can see your pretty eyes again)." Z's eyelids didn't even flicker. Allen leaned back in his chair, still watching her face, still hoping. He slipped his hand back into hers.

"_Réveillez-vous pour moi, Z. S'il vous plaît _(Wake up for me Z. Please.)" Allen's voice faded into a whisper. He watched her until he fell asleep.

When Allen woke up Z still hadn't moved. Save for her eyes. They were open and focused on his hand, which was still holding hers. There was a strange look on her face. Allen retracted his hand quickly.

Z looked up into his face slowly, and he blinked back a tingling sensation in his eyes, sweet relief washing over him.

Z's arm lifted itself from the bed, floating towards him lazily like a leaf caught in a current. Her fingers brushed his shoulder, sliding up his neck to his cheek before dropping back to the bed weakly. "I'm alive then?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper, hints of a frown entering her brow already. Allen was happier than words could describe. "You talk too much, _perdant _(loser)." Allen found he couldn't rid his face of its softly happy smile into a smirk. His voice remained low and soft.

"Too much? I think it was just enough." Z didn't respond. She kept looking into him as though she could see into his soul. She took in his ruffled clothes, the stubble on his chin, the circles under his eyes, the agitated golden golem on his shoulder. The room stayed silent as Z fell into a smooth and natural slumber.

"_Why did you stay?"_

"_Because."_

Z's recovery was brief, although she spent so much time sleeping Allen believed her to be hibernating. Her Innocence hummed loudly, like it was speaking, but dulled again whenever she awoke. "I recover fast," she mumbled to Allen, falling asleep for the fourth time that morning. "It exhausts me. I'll stop using it when I have the strength the move around more."

Z healed in a record time of three weeks, second only to the healing time of Kanda. The only remaining marks on her body were scars. Although the Head Nurse gave her a clean bill of health, Komui insisted that she have a partner on her next mission, a job Allen was unwillingly sucked into. He was correct in assuming he would catch the brunt of her anger. She had glared at him and muttered something about not needing a damned babysitter, although she didn't put as much spite behind it as he expected.

London really hadn't changed since Allen had been there last. It was still smudgy and smoggy, with despicable characters crawling out of the gutters at night. The life and pulse of the day disappeared with the sun, leaving the dust and the rats to rule. There had been a series of odd murders involving prostitutes north of the Thames river, and while it was more than likely just a few rambunctious akuma, the Order had to be sure there was no Innocence to collect.

"I told you, I'm looking for a _particular _woman. Dark skin, light eyes, curly black hair. She's shorter than me and has probably insulted someone by now." The short fat man stomped out his cigar, taking another swig of his bottle. "Ya don't wanna darkie, boy. Trus me, they're 'possed to be real good, but they can't be tamed. Ya need a sweet little British girl fer yer bed." The twitch in Allen's forehead increased ten fold.

"I told you, she's not a whore."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't be shamed! Yer a man aint cha?"

"I don't need to be ashamed of anything! She's just a friend!"

"Yeah, a friend with bene-"

"I AM NOT LOOKING FOR A PROSTITUE YOU BLOODY TWIT! SHE IS **NOT **A WHORE! I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN SIT HERE AND ARGUE WITH YOU WANKERS!"

"Stop cursing, _perdant." _While the sudden appearance of Z ended Allen's search, it did nothing to prove his point. Z wore cheap petticoats made of bright red material, a corset revealing a generous amount of her bosom. Her skirts were frivolous and tacky, with an overabundance of lace and frill and a gapping slit up the side that revealed fishnet hosiery. She gazed at Allen from behind her loose black curls, freed for the night, and she had deep rouge upon her lips and cheeks. A single red rose was behind her ear.

Z looked for all the world like the prostitute Allen insisted she wasn't.

And he tried so hard not to look at the leg she exposed. Accursed hormones.

The tall man scoffed, swiping his friend's bottle. "Not a 'ore ee says." Allen ground his teeth together, pulling Tim off his head. The golem, who had been napping, was roughly the size of a grapefruit, even larger when he unfurled his wings. "Wot's that?" The two men seemed fascinated. Allen wondered how they could have missed it up to this point. "Timcampy. He's a golem. But since you two have been so accommodating, you may call him strange-flying-thing-with-really-pointy-teeth." The men looked no less confused, although the confusion turned to fear when Timcampy growled like a guard dog. He revealed long, golden teeth, and snapped them menacingly.

The two men shared a frightened look before stumbling away as fast as intoxicated legs could take them. Allen turned to Z. "Where have you been?" He couldn't keep the confrontation out of his voice. The girl raised an eyebrow, pointing to the rose. "Getting a pimp. I'm Rosa for the night." Allen slapped his forehead, disturbing Tim again. The agitated golem sought refuge on top of Z's head. "You don't need a pimp Z. You're in _disguise _as a prostitute, no one expects you to do anything."

"Oh, really?" Z chose that moment to lift her foot onto a nearby crate, trying to adjust her stocking. The angle gave Allen a sinful glimpse of her smooth leg and the briefest hint of her round bottom beneath her thin chemise.

He checked nonchalantly for a nose bleed as Z continued. "That's a shame. I was so hoping to receive a few sexually transmitted diseases before the night was over." Allen rolled his eyes. "Okay Z you win. You know better than to sell yourself." She nodded sagely and lowered her leg. She didn't hear Allen sigh in a combination of relief and disappointment. "My 'sisters', Tulip and Lily, claim the deaths have all happened in one area." Allen blinked. "Yeah. North of the Thames."

"But they say it's been a knife doing it. If that's the case, then-"

"It couldn't be an akuma. There'd be nothing but ash left."

"Not true. Level two and above are more original."

"Indeed." They both thought for a moment. "Noah perhaps?"

"Non. Can't see Tyki killing prostitutes."

"We'll just have to continue our search then and see what we see…good job investigating." Z snorted indignantly. They walked the empty streets of London, dim lights the only thing offered in the dark of the night. Although it was already late June, the moonless night had a certain bite to it, like they were walking in the mouth of some great, slumbering beast. Z fought back the urge to look over her shoulder more than once.

She jumped a little when she realized she was alone.

Somewhere along the lines of her daydreaming, Z and Allen had gotten separated. It was an odd feeling, being suddenly lost, and Z would've sympathized with the permanently lost boy if only she didn't blame him for her predicament. "_Perdant," _she called, growing increasingly uneasy and, as a result, pissed off. "Where did you wander off to _this_ time?" There was no response. Another chill ran up Z's spine and she spun on her heel, Innocence prickling.

It was a man hidden in the shadows of an old building, the shape of a pipe clutched in his fingers. He was humming a child's song that originated in Britain, something about rings around roses and posies or something like that. "What's the matter love? Lost are we?" Z did her best to overcome her surprise and unease. "No." She felt the man grin. "Perhaps you would do me a service than? I can pay you well." Z stiffened. "No thank you. I think my life is messed up enough without me screwing anyone with money."

"Come on. How 'bout a bit of snogging and snugging?"

"I'm not a whore, asshole."

"Forgive me love but the way you dress suggests otherwise." Judging from his voice and size, Z guessed the man was in his late thirties and thick, with muscle occupying most of his girth. The shadow of a top hat was on his head and the edge of a street lamp's light revealed top quality leather shoes. "You cannot know someone from the way they dress," Z countered. She felt him grin wider, white teeth shimmering in the shadow. "Truer words have never been spoken." He tapped the burned tobacco out of his pipe, stowing the carved piece of wood in his trouser pocket. "Well, I best be going. I have the first day of the rest of my life tomorrow."

"Isn't that everyday?"

"_Yes, _love. You always claim the best word, it seems."

"_Oui_."

"Tell you what." The man reached into a pocket on the lining of his coat, causing Z to pull into a defensive stance. Ignoring her, the man continued fishing through his pocket until he found what he searched for. A little knife with a black hilt, glowing green gems winking out at Z from the handle. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was Innocence. The man tossed it to her without a moment of hesitation. "Here. I won't need that anymore. In return, you can clean up my mess." Z didn't stop the man as he walked away, using the shadows as his path.

Z wasn't sure what the strange man meant, and was even less sure how to act in such a situation. She had just acquired Innocence with no fuss or fight. It had literally fallen into her lap, and she felt uneasy as she slipped the somehow very heavy little knife down the front of her corset. A breeze blew though the streets, bringing the smell of rot and water wafting towards her. Beneath it all was the very close bite of fresh blood.

Following the smell, Z entered the mouth of the alley the man had stood beside, gasping a bit despite herself.

The body of a prostitute slouched against the far wall, her clothes in ruins. Her face was a mess, her eyelids sliced off and her lips swollen and bloody. The posy petals that had fallen from her hair were strewn across the ally and were floating in the lake of blood around her. She had been stabbed multiple times. Carved into her body, just above the breasts her ripped bodice revealed, were the serrated letters JTR.

Jack. The. Ripper.


	7. Chapter 7

**BB says: **I'm thinking about writing fan fiction for Death the Kidd from _Soul Eater._ I know he's OCD, but something about that suit and sophistication is just so smexy! I may also do Gaara from _Naruto_.

**Rating: **A strong teen for this one. Language and adult themes. I've never written anything like it before so I hope it turns out okay. It gets a little hot in July ^^.

**Disclaimer: **Nothing creative this chapter. I'm really tired, so let me just say I don't own _D. Gray-Man _or the poem _January Brings the Snow. _

"_Hot July brings cooling showers/apricots and gillyflowers,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

Jerri made the best muffins in the entire world. Even Kanda spared them a second glance as he accepted his daily soba. The chef had outdone himself on the gorgeously presented and buttered breakfast treats. Flavors that Z had never even heard of (popcorn, chicken, potato?) and ones that she was a little more familiar with (blueberry, banana, chocolate) lined a long table in the middle of the mess hall. People swarmed, eager to get their share of normal flavors before all that was left was the strange.

Z herself was particularly fond of her apricot muffin. It was baked to perfection, the pieces of fruit chewy and juicy while the bread surrounding it was spongy and soft. It was still warm, and smothered with a generous helping of butter it was pure heaven to her mouth. Popping the last bite into her mouth with a satisfied sigh, she stood to grab more. A heavy cloud descended upon her face. They were all gone.

Disgruntled and disappointed, Z sat back down at her table, scowling so heavily she could almost feel her brow in her eyes. She was still hungry, but her tastes were in the mood for muffin, and a very particular kind. Those stupid greedy Finders and science department members had mobbed the table and robbed her of instant gratification. She plotted Hell for the world.

At the height of Z's pouting and scowling, when Lavi had scooted a safe distance away from her, Allen slid into the spot beside her with a cheerful good morning to all. He was clothed in the black pants and shirt of his uniform but lacked the jacket. Tim sat upon his head, wings folded in rest.

The relationship between Allen and Z had been fluctuating ever since she woke up in his arms. They were both more friendly and more distant. Somehow gaining a higher toleration of each other while also keeping a respectful distance between. They did not instigate conversation with other, but complete ignorance was no longer an option. Looking up into the pastel eyes of the man who saved her (when had he grown taller than her?) did not ignite the same flurry of anger it used to.

Allen's typical breakfast of piles upon piles of food was occupied by a significant amount of muffins of all flavors. She was not surprised that he was daring enough to go for the jalapeno and the potato, but the muffin at the top of the stack, the king of the proverbial hill, was what caught her eye.

Z's heart stopped, eyes widening in disbelief. "H-how'd did you get that?" Allen, whose mouth was already stuffed with scrabbled eggs and bacon, looked up at her. "Mmph?" He pointed to a very unappealing chicken muffin. Z twitched. "No. That one." The apricot muffin was taunting her, practically glowing in it's almighty muffin glory. Allen took a swig of his milk, swallowing. "Oh. Tim brought it to me." Z watched him as he nonchalantly took a bite out of a honey covered biscuit. She let him finish it and two of his tomato muffins before speaking again. "Give it to me."

"Wha?"

"Swallow first. And then give me your muffin." Allen stopped chewing.

The entire room fell silent instantaneously. Z could almost hear jaws drop. Link's pen stopped scratching across the pad.

Allen was a nice guy. Polite to a fault with a smile that could charm the pants off the Devil. He was commendable in his efforts to save both humans and akuma and even Z almost believed he really could save the world (if he didn't jump in front of a train to save a box of kittens). But everyone knew how serious he could be about his food. He didn't willingly share with anyone except for Timcampy, and even that was a rarity. Asking for his food was questionable. Pushing for it was gutsy. Outright demanding it was crazy.

After recovering from the initial shock, Allen's eyebrows lowered themselves into an offended frown. "No."

If possible, it became even quieter in the mess. Several people ran from the room and Kanda sighed audibly. Z felt her eyebrows lift in shock so deep it dampened the anger. She didn't like being denied anything because it was rare she _wanted _anything. It was so rare she discovered items she both earned and craved, it wasn't usually an issue to acquire the item. That muffin was something that she thought Allen owed her. Hadn't she fond Innocence on their shared mission a month ago? After he had let her get lost?

"No?"

"No."

"But I want it."

"And you can't have it." Z stood to reach for it, only for Allen to grab her hand and drag her back down to her seat. "I said no, Z. I mean it. It's mine." A twitch developed under one lavender colored eye. "Give it to me Allen, or there will be serious repercussions."

"Yeah Allen. Give it to her." Allen cut Lavi's perverted giggle short with an elbow to the gut. "I'm not scared of you Z." He ripped the corner off a crepe, never breaking eye contact. Being July, the mess was hot and stuffy, a thick breeze coming through the windows. It tousled Z's hair gently, but didn't cool the flames of her temper. "I see." Before Allen could stop her, the gypsy leapt onto the table, snatching the muffin off the top of his food stack and landing on the other side. Allen lunged at her, narrowly missing as she dived to the right. Kanda growled and chose that moment to take his leave.

"Give it back!"

"No! I want it!" Allen snarled and dodged as Z threw someone's muffin at him. The Finder's protest died in his throat as Allen threw an apple back at Z, barely missing the man's head and creating a crater in the wall. Z did a back spring off the table of muffins, upsetting a few, and landing on her feet. As she was about to continue running, hands lunged out from beneath the table. She tripped onto her knees, barely saving the muffin. Allen penned her beneath him as she waved the muffin away frantically. "No! I'll crush it before I give it back!"

"You wouldn't!

"Would!"

"Damn it Z!"

"_Allez au diable (_go to Hell)!" She rolled over onto her stomach, trying to wriggle out from beneath him while keeping the muffin in tact. She was aware of her childish behavior on a subconscious level, but assumed it was too late to turn back.

"Fine! I challenge you!" Z stopped wriggling.

"_Que?" _Allen took a deep breath, trying to calm down. His cheeks were red in indignation and there was a small pulsing vein in the center of his brow that spoke of impatience. "I challenge you Z. One on one. I win, I get my muffin back."

"You mean _my _muffin."

"One hour, Z. Training grounds in one hour." Z thought for a moment. Wondering if they both weren't just trying to find an excuse to train together. It had been a long time since the two of them had compared abilities, and she was curious to see how much he had improved. "Link." The blonde entered Z's line of sight like he had been listening to their conversation. "You're keeper of the muffin until the victor is determined." Allen nodded, helping Z up off the floor. They ignored the still stunned faces that filled the mess hall as they went back to their table. The apple fell from its crater.

"Flirrrrrrttttiiiiinnnngggg," Lavi stage whispered to Chaoji, who chuckled. Z threw a tray at him. The tray ricocheted off the red head and clanged the Chinese man in the face.

"You two don't think you're overreacting? At all?" Link's words fell upon deaf ears as Z and Allen stared each other down. "You could always split it you know." Silence. The sun beat down on them, sweat already beading on their foreheads. Allen didn't bother wearing a shirt, but both wore loose black pants. Z had chosen to go barefoot.

"Ready?"

"Why ask?" Z lunged forward, dodging his fist and slapping him in the ear.

"A slap? You girl."

"Bite me." Z spun in for a roundhouse kick, only for him to catch her leg and push her away roughly. She caught herself, but not before his fist skimmed past her waist, forcing her further back. Z caught his arm, wrapping her body around his and using her weight to toss him. She succeeded in making him lose his footing, but he took her down with him. They tumbled, rolling over each other and down a hill that was concealed by the thick bushes surrounding the grounds. Roots and rocks dug into Z's back, although at some point she felt Allen's arms tighten around her. She knew he was taking most of the beating.

They landed roughly in a tangle of thorns and vines, little purple flowers crushed beneath them. Allen grunted as Z landed on top of him.

The sun was obscured by low hanging branches, gathering heat and humidity into this one area. Water vapor settled on their skin the instant they became still.

"Hah!" Z tried to keep the breathlessness out of her voice. Falling down a hill in an opponent's arms was somewhat unnerving for her. "Victory is mine!" She couldn't see Allen's face in the shade, but she was aware of his hands on her waist. They weren't moving, although she thought she felt them tighten a bit..

Z fired a fist at his face, and he moved his head to avoid it. His hand moved fast, shooting from Z's waist to her wrist, pinning her hand beside his head.

"L-let go, _débauché de mère _(mother fucker)!" Allen ignored her, his other hand moving up her back, and pressing her towards him gently. Only when he was so close their noses touched could she see his eyes. They were clouded over, looking up at her with a desire that terrified her.

Upon reflection, Z decided she hadn't fought as hard as she could've. She could've activated her innocence, yanked her hand out of his, and leapt away. Perhaps running back to her room and locking the door should have been considered an option as well.

But his breath was on her face and his hand was pressing her closer and the warmth of his body was not entirely uncomfortable in the heat of summer.

The kiss was hard and rough, their teeth gnashing painfully in their hurry. It was like they were trying to beat their common sense, get over this moment of passion before they were able to think about it. Allen wrapped his arms around Z's waist, pulling her flush against his body. She flailed a bit, attempting to resist to convince herself of her efforts, before falling back in.

As their kiss slowed, he kissed the corner of her mouth before sitting up to bite his way down her neck. She sighed, a weak, longing sound and tilted her head in order to give him a better angle. She hissed as his Innocence hand gripped her waist rough enough to bruise, but was silenced when he meshed their mouths together once more.

Z ran her hand down his chest, enjoying the ripple of the hard muscle beneath her. She felt the rough flesh of his sword injury, tasted his gasp as she pressed her fingers to it and scratched him shallowly. She pulled his hair fiercely in order to bite the underside of his chin. She loved the contrast of his fleshed hand and Innocence hand as they explored her back beneath her shirt. She enjoyed the little grunt of pain he made when she bit his lip so hard it bled. She craved the strange mix of salty and sweet that coated his skin. The aggression with which their mouths battled for dominance with yielding lips. Their movements were desperate, years of suppressed fear and lust and anger pushing them forward in a frenzy as their kissing became gnawing and clawing.

_You left._

_You made me believe._

_You made me worry._

_You made me care._

A hand slipped to the front of Z's body, pressing its thumb into one of her breasts to elicit a soft moan she didn't recognize as her own. The other joined it, lifting fabric like a curtain to a tragic ending; slow, painful, foreseen.

"Walker?" Link's voice splashed over them as the rain broke through the branches overhead. Rediscovering reality, Z pulled away, all but leaping away from the equally winded Allen. Rain, sweat, and a small stream of blood traced a path down his sculpted torso, more appealing than Z cared to admit. His long white hair was sticking to his body in a way that was deliciously tousled with a stand caught between his lips. Z vaguely remembered ripping his hair tie out and longed to mold her body to his once more. She shivered and held herself against the mad rush of desire that crashed into her thoughts as she gazed at him.

Z had adjusted to the dark, and could see that while his eyes were no longer clouded, they were hooded and spoke of bitter resignation. A humorless smile lifted half his mouth. "Walker?" Link's voice again. Allen reached for Z, brushing her cheek with shaking fingers. The chilled rain was giving her goose-bumps, washing away the heat of the day. Allen was trying to look her in the eyes but his gaze kept wandering to her lips.

_What have we done?_

_What have we changed?_

"Answer me Walker!"

"We're here!" Allen's voice was husky, cracking as he forced it to increase in volume. Z pushed his hand away, turning away from soft grey eyes. "I'm leaving." Her voice shook. Allen bit his lip against tense words, nodding. Z sighed.

"You can keep the fucking muffin."

_Nothing._


	8. Chapter 8

**BB says: **Let's play I Spy! I spy with my little eye…ANOTHER CHAPTER! LoL. I am such a nerd.

**Rating: **Teen. Let's just say that every chapter from here on is teen unless I say so.

**Disclaimer: **Knock Knock

Who's there?

No own

No own who?

Me no own _D. Gray-man _or the poem "January Brings the Snow."

**I would also like to take this chance to remind everyone that I do not own the characters from **_**D. Gray-Man**_**, and therefore do not own Klaud Nyne. The back story I created for her is just something I came up with. Although I have heard she really was an animal trainer. **

"_August brings the sheaves of corn/then the harvest home is borne,"_

___Sara Coleridge_

It was barely six in the morning when a soft knock woke Z from her slumber. The person had to knock three times before she registered it in her sleepy mind.

Upon the fourth knock she had woken up enough for her muscles to seize in panic.

Z didn't know if she wanted to open her door. Perhaps she should lock it instead. The past year had been…strange. She drifted thought life in an impermeable fog, confused by her own feelings, barely acknowledging the days. Most of the time she felt strangely lethargic, and other times -like when Allen entered the room- she felt overheated and jittery. Their encounter in the bushes was never mentioned, but the tension remained and perhaps even increased as time went on. No one knew about the incident but it still felt as though all eyes were on them whenever they entered a room together. Too much guilt shadowed the path of unspoken truths.

Z tried to force nonchalance upon their obviously evolving relationship.

Allen tried to act like nothing ever happened.

Neither could deny the attraction.

Z found herself having dreams (nightmares, she told herself) about Allen finally snapping, trapping her, and forcing himself upon her. It would be sudden and unexpected and wonderful and horrible and wild and…

He would never do such a thing, she told herself, but she was overwhelmed by excitement/fear whenever she thought about it. She felt confused, longed for a mentor to explain what the best course of action would be in such a situation.

The person knocked a fifth time, and Z forced herself to swing her legs over the side of her bed. "Stop it. I'm coming." She shuffled over to the bed as slowly as possible, eying her window longingly. If only she could leap through.

An agitated sigh was heard on the other side of the door.

Like popping back a dislocated shoulder, Z wanted the pain over and done. But what would she do if it _was _Allen? What could she possibly say?

Z whipped open the door with a speed that was in strange contrast to her lagging steps.

Howard Link jumped despite himself. The surprisingly haggard looking woman's scowl was enough to crush rock. Her nightclothes -consisting of a large man's shirt and microscopic shorts- were wrinkled from tossing around in bed. A messy mop of black hair concealed her pouting face. All Link could see clearly with his flickering candle were eyes so bright they nearly glowed.

"What do you want? Do you know what time it is, fool?" And her manners were terrible.

"06:00 on the dot, Mademoiselle Zahara."

"Correct." She slammed the door in his face, intent on going back to sleep. It wasn't who she wanted at her door…who she dreaded.

"Your presence is being summoned. I must ask that you open this door and follow me immediately."

"And why the Hell would I do that?"

"Klaud Nyne said her name would be enough to convince you." Z paused, one leg in the bed. "My Master is here."

"I believe I said that, yes." Z hadn't seen Madam Nyne in over two years. She had met Timothy, but Nyne always seemed to elude her. Whether she was too busy or just no longer interested in Z was questionable.

The name of the general was enough to convince Z to slide on her slippers and slither out her door.

Despite the fact it was late August, the castle had a certain chill to it, the stone retaining cold in the surrounding darkness. They walked in silence, Link's booted steps hard and formal in comparison to Z's dragging amble behind him.

"Walker's still asleep. He gets up at 09:00 every morning. Like clockwork." Z raised an eyebrow she knew Link didn't see. The light from his candle flickered dangerously as she sighed at him. "I didn't ask."

"You didn't have to. I can see you looking for him." She was about to deny it, but decided the lie wasn't worth her time. So she settled for insulting him. "Wouldn't a proper stalker be watching him sleep? Make sure he doesn't snore or scream his wicked intentions in his sleep?" Link frowned and walked a bit faster. Z allowed him to get ahead of her. "To tell you the truth, it has become…difficult to believe that Walker is any threat to us. That boy is confused and determined to prevent any harm from befalling the Black Order. From befalling," Link stumbled over his words. "The people he loves." Z bit her lip.

"Do your superiors know of this belief of yours?"

"Do they need to?"

"And if we're being watched?"

"I know how to listen for CROW, Mademoiselle."

"And you trust me?"

"…Yes." Z snorted a brief, patronizing laugh. "What, might I ask, is so funny?" Ahead of them was a door with light peeking from the other side. "You're much more complicated than I thought you were. Perhaps I should make an effort to know you better." Link didn't respond. His steps slowed once more, and Z couldn't tell if he was trying to let her walk beside him or reluctant to reach the door.

As Z made to move past him, Link grabbed her hand, making her face him. "If this going to go further, you need to keep in mind what he may do." Z raised an eyebrow, surprised by his nervous hiss. Snatching her arm back, she snarled at him "the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You do realize what the fourteenth will do? To those Walker loves?"

"Yes, I think we went over that already." Link looked so blatantly concerned for her safety. It confused the female exorcist that he could be so attached when she could count the number of times she'd spoken to him on one hand. Z smirked half heartedly, reaching for the door again. "Get more sleep, Link. Walker doesn't love me. He barely likes me." Link snorted. "Tell yourself whatever you want to. I'm merely reinforcing what you should already know. Walker is no danger to you, but the fourteenth-"

"You should go back to bed." Z turned from him, closing her eyes and gripping the doorknob. "There is nothing between Walker and I, nor will their ever be. Your concern is misplaced." Link waited, but Z was silent, her hand frozen on the door. She didn't know how convincing her voice was when she was so lost as well.

"It would be a shame to lose you because of your pride, Zahara."

"Go back to bed Link." She heard him sigh helplessly.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

Z pushed open the door before he could say more, shutting it just as quickly. She waited until she heard his footsteps retreat to turn to face Klaud Nyne.

"Goodness child. I thought I taught you better than to slam doors." The room was well lit, torches and candles and lamps lining the walls. Nyne sat on an overstuffed couch, a cup of tea held in her dainty hand. She looked the same as when Z was younger. Just as beautiful. Just as formal. "_Désolé, Madame Nyne _(Sorry Lady Nyne)." The haste with which Nyne waved the apology away was almost rude. "You have permission to refer to me as Klaud. Or even Nyne, if you prefer. You are no longer my student, Zahara." Z sat down beside the older woman, pouring herself a cup of tea. Lau Shimin climbed onto her shoulder, chattering. "I feel most comfortable with Madam Nyne, if it's all the same to you."

"As long as you're content." They sat in silence, Z stirring her tea with her finger and sneaking glances at Nyne. "You're wondering why I'm here. Why I've chosen to see you now after all this time."

"I am a bit curious, yes." Nyne raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Sarcasm? That's new."

"_Désolé."_

"Don't be. It fits you."

"Why are you here, Madame Nyne?" Nyne grew silent. Z watched, fascinated, as her Master struggled for words for the first time. "Did I ever ask you what happened to your parents?" Z took a sip of her tea. After nearly thirteen years of being an orphan, the pain had dulled to a numb throb. "They were killed in the gypsy hunts."

"Ah yes. Can you tell me what killed them?" Z looked at Nyne curiously. "I don't remember the weapons used…"

"No? Well let me enlighten you." Nyne poured herself more tea, casually helping herself to a biscuit as well. "It was akuma." Z nearly dropped her cup, waiting for the other woman to explain her jest. "Sorry, but you're mistaken. I remember-"

"You remember what you've convinced yourself to believe. It must have been quite painful for you to watch monsters kill your parents." Z set her cup down roughly. "You're not listening. I know what killed my parents. I…I watched them do it. They killed my father, raped and killed my mother, I barely made it out alive."

"I see." More silence. Nyne politely ignored the look Z was giving her. "And did I ever tell you why I became an animal trainer?" Z waited several beats before speaking. The change of subject was purposely clumsy; the general was going to make some sort of point. "_Non_, Madame." Nyne smiled an actual smile, tiny, but beautiful. "When I was a child I had it all. Power. Money. Beauty. My parents gave me the best education money could buy and shipped me off to numerous boarding schools. My life was a fairy tale, and I lived happily ever after day after day." The general sipped her tea. "But they never touched me. No hugs, kisses, affection. I really can't even remember their faces, although I may remember the smell of my father's cigars. It's almost as if they were scared they would destroy my perfection if they touched me.

They had my future all created for me, down to my children's names. Five boys; Raphael, Michael, Leon, Parker, and," the general smiled wider "Timothy. It was suffocating. On the night I was supposed to board a train to go to a finishing school, I ran away from home. I was so brazen as to leave them a nasty letter. The train I was supposed to be on wrecked; no survivors with bodies too destroyed for recognition. Claudia Nichols had died. And I planned on her staying dead.

But, of course, I needed a job for my new life. I suppose I chose to become an animal trainer because I felt it was lowest of the low. What would be more demeaning than working with animals? Wasn't it the sweetest spite to let all my parents' work go to waste? I still wanted to hurt those poor grieving strangers. I was such a brat." She sighed. "I met Lau Shimin, was attacked by akuma, and thus our story comes full circle." Z wasn't sure what to say. She had never heard Nyne speak of her past, yet all in one morning she told everything. Z was still grabbing at words when Nyne spoke again. "And that is how I know the truth of your parents' deaths."

"Madame-"

"Do not interrupt, Zahara." Z shut her mouth out of habitual obedience. "Before I was a general, I was given a mission in rural France. In the chaos and misery of the hunts, akuma were abundant and it was a concern that Innocence would slip under the radar. Myself and several others, all of whom are dead now, were sent in to investigate and report back to headquarters.

I stayed in run down inns and spoke little. I couldn't speak French very well, and it was embarrassing to be caught in error so often. As a result of my hesitance, I would often camp instead of finding a place to stay. A traumatic experience for someone of my breeding.

One such night, I awoke to screams. A woman, screaming in French. I couldn't understand all of it but it was so desperate. So pained. I was…terrified. But it was the fear that drove me forward before I could think.

It was horrible. Such a beautiful woman your mother was, hair the color of sweet corn, skin smooth chocolate silk. She was so young; she couldn't have been much older than you are now. And they were killing her so slowly. They…I can't describe. I don't want you to remember. I activated Lau Shimin. I think I saw you. Behind a fallen tree. When I saw your bracelets and earrings, I knew it was Innocence. I knew what you were. One of the akuma broke off from the pack to go after you. You screamed. But I didn't have time to act before you did."

"…I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't. I'm not sure how to say it. It must be a function of your Innocence. I was caught in the cross fire as you tried to defend yourself. My body…my mind was sucked into a deep, dark chasm. I couldn't see anything. My senses were dull, but I knew something was there with me. Several things, really. They were darker than the darkness somehow, and I could see vague shapes slithering about through the air.

They were so awful that even the akuma were screaming and calling for mercy. I may have screamed as well. I was so scared although I could feel was Lau Shimin holding me. It was so heavy I couldn't breath, and I could feel eyes watching me. Waiting. I didn't want to die. But what gave me the most regret was that maybe I was wrong. And I was supposed to be nothing more than a fat bastard's trophy wife. The thought was infuriating.

Then the light of my Innocence began to glow, and I was suddenly released from whatever Hell you had accidentally sent me to.

When I awoke in a field in Northern Ireland two days later, I had exceeded one hundred percent with my Innocence. I was qualified to be a general." Nyne sighed. "It became my mission to find you again. Your Innocence was like nothing I had seen before. Nothing I had seen sense. A disruption of space. Access to a world lining the dark paths of ours. Maybe it really isn't so far off to call it Hell. But if you are able to access something so awful, so monstrous," Nyne looked at Z, who was clenching her hands into fists. "What sort of being does that make you? What sort of power lies so close to the surface of who you are?"

Z was closing her eyes against the clash of memories. What she believed and the truth were both in her mind. She smelled her mother's sweat as they ran, heard her whisper, felt her scream in pain and terror. They saw the shivering little girl, the demons, the creatures. It was so bright suddenly, something building inside her…

And then the monsters were gone.

"I-I didn't. I'm not-"

"Howard Link submitted a year ago that included how he and Allen Walker found you in Spain. You were unconscious; beaten but not dead. It's unlikely your opponent just grew tired of you. I wouldn't doubt the Innocence sent them away to protect you." That light…hadn't been Allen?

"But in my training, I never activated anything like that."

"The training was effective for the offensive aspects of your Innocence. But defense, such as your healing capabilities and this…power went unchanged." Nyne reached out, gently touching one of Z's earrings. It hummed in response. "Both are probably beyond your control. Your Innocence may have a sentient mind of it's own." Z bit her lip. Of all the things she knew, all the things she _thought_ she knew, her Innocence was near the top of the list. It was literally part of her. If she didn't know everything about it, what did she know? About herself? About everything? Just what sort of _thing _wasattached to her?

"What do I do?" She stared down at her Innocence with distain and terror. Nyne wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders, crushing Lau Shimin between them. "You are still such a child Zahara. You still need me to hold you when the world is too much for you to take."

**BB says some more: **I would like to do something special for my fans, so here's a competition of my own creation! Since I like to read the reviews for my story (flattery is my weakness ^^;) this chapter has a special twist. Anyone may submit a character of their own creation and a back story for said character. The fourth review I get (in the order given by my reviews list) will have their character placed in a future chapter. The ticket into this completion is the review itself so don't forget to tell me what you think of my story (negative or positive. I have thick skin). Thanks fans!


	9. Chapter 9

**BB says: **it's been awhile since I worked on this fan fiction. Thank you everyone who has held on ^^. As a reward, this one is extra long! *someone throws ninja star. BB dodges* I said sorry! *someone throws a tomato. Hits the Finder standing behind BB* Okay, he was an _innocent_, people * chainsaw skims past BB* That's it! *BB leaves. Screen goes blank*

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

…

**Rating: **Hello. My name is Steve and I am one of the many stage hands for this Fanfic. BB refuses to come out of her room, so I'll be taking over until we can lure her out with enough ice cream. This story is rated Teen, if what the writer screamed at me is any reference.

**Disclaimer: **BB doesn't own _D. Gray-Man _or the poem "January Brings the Snow". I wish she would come out of her room to say something witty right now but-

BB: F* YOU STEVE! BURN IN HELL WITH YOUR CHOCOLATE FLAVORED ICY TREATS! *door slams after BB snatches said treats*

She's busy. Let's just continue to the story. The winner of BB's character contest was Neko-Chiidesu. Did I pronounce that right?

In any case, BB is also distraught with the turn of events in the manga, _D. Gray-Man. _Don't get me wrong, she loves it with a hot passion (she grovels at the feet of Katsura-sama) but hates the fact her fan fiction is no longer accurate. She apologizes-

BB: I F* HATE GREEN BEANS! WHO SENT THIS GIFT BASKET?

-for the inconsistencies but feels it is too late to change what she has created. As such, she begs forgiveness, but continues where she left off.

"_Warm September brings the fruit; sportsmen then begin to shoot,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

One can never cease to surprise oneself. That would make life uneventful; almost an error, if you will.

Perhaps, years ago, if the thought had even crossed Z's mind, hinted at her conscious, burrowed within her assureds, she would have pounced upon it viciously, destroyed it.

No such thoughts would be allowed to survive in _her _mind on _her _watch.

Hmph.

No. Not even that.

Too upset for that.

Z pressed her hand against the metal door once more, scowl light, lips pursed. Her hair was down and tangled because she hadn't taken the time to comb it and her eyes had shadows beneath them. No matter how she turned, how she focused, a restful sleep was beyond her these days. Images and regrets were too prominent.

So tonight, instead of suffering in silence, she had pried herself from her bed near two in the morning, yanked on her uniform, and prepared herself for a long journey.

The steps that lead into the bowels of the castles were smooth, the smell of mildew and age the only companion on her trip. She brought matches but couldn't bring her self to strike one, stumbling in the dark because the more she saw the less nerve she would be able to hold on to. The path itself wasn't intimidating; it was what it lead to. Three stories down, a left, a right, and the door at the end of the passage. A feeling of tension and absolution she could feel vibrating through the castle and into her room.

Because of _him. _

No.

Because of _them. _

Every fucking person on this fucking planet was out to get her. How she longed to get them first. If she had to ability to do so, destroy everything, everyone, then this wouldn't have happened.

No. She wasn't thinking clearly. Too many days, too much stress, too little sleep. This was the first time she had seen him since she heard them come in, wandering the castle at night because, for some strange reason, she had felt restless. About three days ago, when everyone else had been asleep.

This was the first time she had the nerve to even acknowledge that yes, she was hurt, yes, she was mourning, and no, she didn't understand why.

No one had bothered to guard the path, because no one knew. He had been brought in the depths of night, unconscious and unaware. She supposed the Order had another week before people started worrying seriously, wondering why the communication had stopped and why the world felt like it was growing dimmer by the minute.

Z blinked at the strange tingling behind her eyes. She was tired, she told herself. The tears were the product of her yawning.

"You can come in you know." The voice, calm and achingly familiar, floated through the sealed door. Z shuddered despite herself. "I know you know how. Are those barriers really a challenge for you? Didn't you come here with a purpose?" Z's smirk was shaky. "That's no concern of yours." A soft sigh. "Isn't it though? I thought you made a promise. If you can't save his life, then his soul is within your reach. At least, that's what you hoped."

"Shut up! You don't know anything about it!"

"It's impossible for me _not _to know." Z didn't answer, gritting her teeth and clenching her fist. She didn't want him to know he was right. That she had indeed come her for a reason, another option. She didn't have to break her promise, but she didn't have to keep it either.

"I don't think the others can do it either. The Chinese girl will cry and the Bookman will say some _very_ offensive things."

"Fuck you."

"Yes. Just like that." The last of the seals was broken, Z reached for the handle. This was it. She had to do it. For herself and everyone else who would eventually find out.

A larger, calloused hand wrapped around her arms and mouth, dragging the female exorcist away from the door. She struggled, but fatigue and shock dampened her movements, the idea to activate her innocence not occurring until she was well on the way to her room.

"What are you doing?" The voice behind the mask hissed, throwing Z. She caught herself before she would fall to the ground, her uncharacteristic stumbling not going unnoticed. "You're not yourself. Go back to your chambers, Mademoiselle Zahara." There was a hint of softness in his voice, but that didn't make Link's command any less powerful. Z straightened herself. "I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are." Z frowned. "Don't tell me what I feel Link." She made to go past him, back down into the dungeons, but he stopped her. "He's not who you want him to be. It's over." Z tried to ignore him, but felt the words like a slap. They were what she had been repeating to herself for _days._ What she _knew_ but couldn't _believe._

"You thought you could hide him," Z accused, not bothering the look up at the masked face. "You thought you could just slip him under our guard with none the wiser." The thought was infuriating. Z felt deceived.

"No."

"No?" Link sighed and pulled off his mask and hood. They stood under a flickering torch, the light dancing across their faces. He looked just as tired as Z. "It would be foolish to believe I could hide it. Especially from you."

"What's that supposed-"

"How long do you think I have? A week? A day? Eventually everyone will know Walker is-"

"Don't say it," Z's murmur surprised her more than Link. "_S'il vous plait _(please). It doesn't need to be said." Link blinked back his shock, voice losing much of its softness when he spoke again. "But it's true. And won't stop just because you can't deal with it."

"Shut up."

"You had to know this was coming. I told you-"

"SHUT UP!" Z spun, bringing up her fist. Under normal circumstances, perhaps she would've landed a blow. But Link easily caught her limp fist; the only thing powerful about her body was her angry eyes. Of course she _knew_. Just like everyone else, she buried it. Kept it locked away where it belonged and where it should've stayed. Where no one could be hurt by it.

The two stared each other down, the match ending as Z yanked back her fist and turned towards her room. "What will you do when the others find out? Will you keep us from fulfilling our promise?" Z waited for his response before continuing on her way.

None came.

"Does the Order even know?"

More silence. Z finally walked away.

If there was one thing Z was grateful for, it was the reputation she had given herself within the Order. It was convenient on days like this, when all she felt like doing was brooding. Her silence did not entice anyone to ask if something was bothering her for the simple reason that they knew she wouldn't answer. She was Z, after all.

Only Lenalee seemed to be mildly concerned by the barely visible shadows under her eyes.

"Are you feeling okay Z? You look a little pale." The gypsy looked at her old friend, blinking slowly. Lenalee had gone from a cute girl to a pretty young woman, bright, intelligent eyes analyzing Z. Her lovely green hair had finally grown back to length, but she had styled it carefully into a long ponytail at the nape of her neck. Lavi said she was intimidating a old, dead friend.

The weight of Z's secret, a secret that she was helping Link to keep, was echoing in her head. What would Lenalee say if she knew? Would that soft, caring look fall into sorrow? Could Z hear her heart shatter behind her uniform?

"I'm fine. My allergies hate the change in seasons." Lenalee didn't look convinced, but Z offered no further explanation. So the young Chinese woman changed the subject.

"I wonder how Allen's doing." Z hoped no one noticed the small crack in her cup as she gripped it a bit too hard. "Komui said he hasn't contacted us in a while." Z frowned, glaring at her cup. This was it. When they finally realized…

Lavi shrugged. "Probably some sort of interference from the ark. Didn't the science department say it's been acting weird these past few days?"

"Oh yeah. I hope he doesn't wind up going through a wrong door." Z somehow kept her sigh of relief quiet.

"I have a mission coming up in the same area. I could check for him, if you like." Miranda had gained confidence in the Order, but her voice was still meek as she made her offer. Lenalee gave her one of the big smiles she saved for her best friends. "Really? Thanks, Miranda. Even if he's okay, I would like the piece of mind." Alright then. That would allow Z a few more days to complete her self given mission.

Z stood with her untouched breakfast, waving a passive goodbye.

She would do it.

Why did she have to keep saying it?

And then she would disappear.

Z found herself wandering the halls of the Order, her feet leading her wherever. She had no missions (that she could remember. Her mind had been a blur lately) and the library's books were less than helpful in distracting her. Upon a whim, her feet were moving faster, finally picking a point before her mind could fully process what she was doing. She had to get out. Out of the suffocating stone walls and the sorrow she felt emanating from below. In a room below her feet.

She finally understood the _Tell-Tale Heart._

The ark was attended by several members of the science department, none of whom Z recognized. It was of little consequence; none of them were fast enough to stop her before she leapt through the opening anyway.

Z heard them call to her and each other, wondering, worrying about where she was going. The gypsy ignored their shouts, running from the first moment her feet touched the cobbled roads of the musician's ark.

She twitched. Even thinking the name…

There was the brief worry that another exorcist may be walking the paths ahead, but Z was banking on the fact that they, like the scientists, would be too startled to process that a blur of black and violet had just sped past. And even if they saw her, witnessed her vanishing through a door what could they do? She would be back eventually, and exorcists were too far between for her to be ostracized by the Order.

There was a door ahead, one she had never seen before. A light wood-oak, perhaps- with a bronze knob. She burst through and into the portal beyond it.

The point was access point fourteen, a very ironic sanctuary for the young woman to seek. It led into an old, averagely sized, church. It being a lazy Friday afternoon, the benches were vacant, the pew that stood at the front holding an unlit candle. Several unlit candles lined the walls, but the light shining through the windows provided plenty of light for Z's weary eyes.

The city surrounding the church was lively and bright, booths proudly shouting wares of fruit and milk to onlookers. Children ran about the legs of bartering adults, several loosened dogs taking part in the fun as they nipped at tender heels and licked soft faces. A few street performers were littered through the crowd, and the smell of bread was prominent. Z received several odd looks as she exited the empty church, but none were hostile or curious enough to approach.

The cobble stone roads were smooth, worn down by feet of man and horse. Droppings were shoved to the side of the road and Z was confident she wouldn't step in anything unpleasant as she walked through the square.

"Milk! Milk! Sweeter than a mums!"

"Flowas fer yer love! Lovely buds for tha lovely lasses!"

"Apples! Sweet an' plump!"

Perhaps she was in Britain? The irony was most sickening.

Z was once again scowling at her feet, careful to avoid others that were walking around her. "'Ello, miss. Care fer a Times?" Z looked down at the little boy, grinning up at her and waving a newspaper in her face. "A Times? S' only a pence." Z mentally sighed and pressed the money into the child's hand. He grinned wider, brown eyes shining behind limp brown hair. The large smile coupled with the hair and disheveled clothes...

Damn him! Invading every thought, contaminating every memory!

"Thanks!" And off the child went to sell more papers, ignorant to Z's unrighteous fury. The exorcist forced the scowl from her face, brushing out the creases and wincing at the smudgy fingerprints on her piece of news.

London. She was in London. That was all she needed to know; she threw the paper over her shoulder.

The wistful walk her feet led her through was somewhat less oppressive away from the Order. Despite the thick smell of smoke and bodies, Z felt a little more free, a little less trapped. The beat of gypsy's long before her, a beat of open spaces and air and movement pounded in her temples, a rhythm she only understood through instinct. She had heard it since young childhood and, now, like every other occurrence, she squashed it. It was only allowed to rise on the battlefield or in the privacy of her own room.

"'Ello there love," the man behind the booth smiled at her kindly, the sun glinting off his grey hair. "Lost, are we? Where're ya wishin' to go?" Z blinked, stepping closer to the stand. "No where. I'm not looking for anything." The man continued smiling. The gesture was almost lost on his face, the wrinkles so deep and so prominent the upturn of the lips resembled just one more addition to his age. "Now, now. Young people wit their ignorance." Z frowned, but didn't walk away. "Look fer nothing and yer bound to find it." Z's frown lessened. The poor old guy must have been senile. She turned to walk away only for a tug to pull her back. The old man had leaned across his display of apples to grab her sleeve. Upon his face sat a look so serious and intelligent it left Z stunned for a brief moment. "Yes? What do you want?" The old man sat back on his stool, lifted an apple and studied his reflection in the fruit. "This is a tough life."

The man leaned forward again, offered Z the apple. She didn't hesitate to accept. "Stay down or stay strong. Don't fear, don't look back." The smile re-grew. "Pretty apple fer a pretty lass. No charge."

"Thank you." The man nodded. Z turned away, looking down at her gift. It was a gentle yellow, the waxy skin taunt and firm beneath her fingers. It looked delicious, but Z hadn't had an appetite since….

She frowned, but this time was different. Her vision blurred, her throat ached, it became difficult to breathe. A soft whine escaped her parted lips, her eyebrows drawn together. She sucked her lips between her teeth. A small, warm beat of water rolled down her face, splashing onto the apple that she clenched in her hand.

Why did everything hurt so much?

What did she hate everything?

_Herself._

_He fucking __**left **__her. _

Z gasped in air, continuing to walk despite her impaired sight. She didn't want to call attention to herself, although no one paid her any mind. What was one more gypsy wandering the streets? One more watery eyed woman?

Z ran into someone and hissed angrily before realizing who is was. "Watch it fool!"

A little girl stared up at her, afraid. The big blue eyes were wide, barely visible behind the coal colored hair that reached her elbows. The blue dress she wore was clean but threadbare, telling Z the child was either poor or orphaned. To Z's guilt and horror, the child appeared to be shaking in fear, a thin lip jutting out in a whimper. Z hastily rubbed away her own tears, trying not to sound sick as she spoke. "You almost knocked me over." The little girl just kept shaking. She mumbled something under breath and Z leaned closer to catch it.

"I-I'm sorry, miss." Z was sucked back to Paris, to a shaking, terrified child in a filthy cloak. Something in her, something broken into pieces, melted slightly. "I'm not…mad. Here," she offered the child her apple "take it. I'm not hungry anyway." The girl hesitated a moment, searching Z's face, before accepting. The older girl expected the orphan to flee, but she took a huge, grateful bite of the yellow fruit. And smiled shyly.

"I-it's yummy." Z felt her lips twitch. "Good." She watched the girl munch on the apple for a moment, lost in contemplation. Gently, the gypsy placed her hand on the child's head, earning a reproachful look. "Stay strong." The little girl looked up at her, a bit of apple on her face. "Stay strong, okay?" The child nodded and Z removed her hand. As she made her way back to the church, her own words, the words of the elderly man, echoed through her mind.

_Stay down._

_Stay Strong._

_Which one?_

So she was back. At this door, at this time with this, _this, _burning within her. Z gulped, the picking and tugging at the lock even less troublesome as she worked. She was powered by determination. It had taken Link a little over ten minutes to get to her previously, so if she could-

"Mademoiselle!" Z glanced back, Link bounding towards her. The last seal was in her hand, about to be crushed by Beastly Beauty. She realized, at that moment, how severe her miscalculation had been.

Instead of just Link, a team of CROW stood behind her, their glares burning her from behind their masks. While Z did her best to frown back at them, she was distracted by the presence approaching from the darkness, the figure of Inspector Rouvelier. She refined her glare to the extreme.

"Can I help you, Inspector?" The man smiled, a gesture that made Z's skin crawl. "Step away from the door, Zahara. You are, from this point on, ordered to stay away from this section of the Order and to not inform anyone of what you have seen." Z arched a brow, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest. She knew CROW could act quickly and efficiently, sealing her before she could blink if she wasn't careful. But she couldn't stop. _Wouldn't _stop. The appearance of Rouvelier meant that the higher ups knew, that Link had let them know. This thought was infuriating, but sobering. Z would never have a chance to get this close to him again. If she let go now, if she dared to quit-

_Stay down_

"So I should walk away? Pretend like I didn't see anything?"

_Stay Strong._

"Fuck you."

_I choose._

"Don't!" There was a dark chuckle, the door bursting forth from within. Z was tackled by a sudden force, pinned to the ground by a grinning individual with grey skin. The white hair was startling in its familiarity, the faintest hint of the scar on his left eye. Z didn't have time to react before a powerful, seal covered hand was on her throat.

"It's so good to see you in person. Everything that is you just jumps out at me from this angle." The grin was fanged, yellow eyes burning into her face. Z tried, and failed, to gulp behind the hand clamped on her throat. She could barely breathe.

The Inspector stopped his men from acting. "Smart guy. I'll crush her windpipe before you reach me and then what? You'll be out _two_ exorcist right?" The grin grew mocking, taunting. "Right? And then where will you be? Hah!" The Fourteenth flashed Rouvelier another smirk before turning his attention to the girl below him. "You're something else. Tell me, did you come to kill me, or free me?" Z didn't answer, knowing her glare had melted as soon as she saw his face.

Oh God.

_Ah mon Dieu (oh my God)._

It became so much harder; this felt like such a bad idea.

Because he was still Allen.

That shaggy white hair.

"Well?"

Strong jaw and high cheekbones.

"Am I such a shock to you?"

Even the feel of the hand around her neck.

"Ah. It doesn't matter any way. This is over." The hand was tightening, chocking her. The CROW lurking in the shadows stirred, unsure how to proceed. All Z could think about was how foolish she was before and how pissed she was at this moment. Because it was only _now_, as she was about to allow herself to be killed, that she fully understood. That she could finally look past the obvious, the hidden, and the plain.

"You're wrong."

The Fourteenth seemed surprised she had spoken, perhaps he had thought she fainted in the dim lights of the dungeon.

"Pardon?" Z smiled, a sincere, beautiful upturn of the lips.

"It can't be over. That's why you have to kill us, right? It won't be over until everything he loves is dead." She closed her eyes. "You don't want to chance our presence. The knowledge that he may come back to us. That his longing may be enough to overcome you." The fourteenth's eyes narrowed, his grin dangerous.

"Is that what you believe? You honestly believe I _fear _you?"

"With all my heart. I know you do." His eyes became slits of gold against a grey background, his hand once more tightening around her throat.

"If what you say is true, what will you do about it? How can you keep me from destroying what he loves?" Z blinked. Wasn't it obvious? "I'll kill you. I'm poisonous to akuma and Noah alike; I'll fucking kill you, you Noah bastard." Her voice was choked, but the determination behind it was unmistakable.

It was silent for a moment, the hand at Z's windpipe once more stilling.

All at once, the Noah broke into a laugh, long and loud, mocking Z to her face. The CROW began to edge in, perhaps hoping to catch the Fourteenth off guard, only for him to turn and snarl "Stay back!"

Satisfied the CROW had stopped, the Noah turned to his captive once more. "Absolutely _enthralling_," he purred, sounding, for the briefest second, like Tyki Mikk. Shifting his weight, the Fourteenth leaned closer, breathing into Z's face.

"We Noah _adore _atheistic qualities. But you're so much more, aren't you? Is there actually a competent mind in that skull I'm about to crack? Well?" Z's earrings were humming. And she didn't think anyone else could hear it. It was like a light, sweet symphony in her mind, melodic and chaotic and so very powerful she could hardly stand it.

Finally.

Her plan, the one she had come here to carry out, had reached its completion.

"Fuck you, asshole." White began flooding her vision, an uplifting sensation invading her limbs, as Beastly Beauty gave its opinion of the situation. But Z refused to faint this time. She refused to be rocked to sleep by the silent rhythm of her Innocence. At the last moment, when she knew they were being taken away, she clung to his arm, ensuring they would go together.

_You are not getting away from me._

_Let the sport begin, lovely._


	10. Chapter 10

**Steve says: **BB is still kinda mad that you guys tried to kill her last time. She made this chapter only grudgingly and I'm still trying to get her out of her room. *BB walks by in fuzzy bunny slippers with a carton of ice cream. A pretzel is hanging from her mouth and her hair hasn't been combed in days*.

BB: sup Steve.

…. WHAT THE HELL? Do your own intro you crazy witch!

BB: Meanie! I was just hungry is all. You _know _hunger makes me cranky! You're _so_ fired. But since you make good pancakes you're re-hired ^^. To the kitchen with you.

**Rating: **Still Teen. Unless Steve changed it.

Steve: I hate you!

Shut up man-slave and make me pancakes!

**Disclaimer: **_It is warm this morning. But that is not strange. The weather has been fluctuating the past few months like it always does this time of year, and the residents have learned to deal with such weather using a weary eye and preparation for rain. A window on the second floor of the building is opened, moist breezes edging through the screen and into the room shared by two young women. The sun brushes the crown of the day as birds begin to call to each other. One of the women -the shorter, younger of the two- is at her desk, softly snoring on her keyboard. She is successful; her paper is finished, proofread, and ready to be printed. On her fourth proofreading attempt she had fallen asleep. _

_Beep. _

_Beep!_

_BEEP! It becomes impossible to ignore the sound of her clock any longer. She pries open deep brown eyes with a moan, regretting that three hours of sleep would have to sustain her for the day. She silences the annoying ringing before her sleeping roommate wakes, and stretches in the languid way of cats. But now she sees the time._

_She prints the paper as she leaps into the shower, five minutes is enough to get fairly clean. Messy ebony hair is tossed into a ponytail as the final page is created. She does a strange dance, pulling on jeans as a toothbrush hangs out of her mouth and a shirt is clutched in her hand. She doesn't want to be late. Tardiness is close to failure, and for the child of with a business minded mother anything less than amazing is not an option. She gathers the essay quickly, shoves it into her binder and slides on sandals. Out the door she goes. _

_A sheet (not part of her term paper) falls to the ground. She wrote a message to remind herself of two facts. _

_BB doesn't own D. Gray-Man. Nor does she own "January Brings the Snow." _

"_Brown October brings the pheasant/then to gather nuts is pleasant,"_

_~ Sara Coleridge_

"Look at me! Hey! Hey Z!" The grin was wide, white teeth gleaming as the ladder rolled around the floor of the library. A powerful tanned hand gripped a high rung carelessly as he sped along the edges of the sitting area. They were more or less alone in the large room, and Z had leapt upon the chance to finish her book. She should've taken it back to her room. Because while she had the books all to herself for the first ten minutes, it wasn't long before Bookman junior wandered in.

He had been sent on a research assignment, a directive given to him that he was content to follow. But the opportunity to brighten Z's day (in his own opinion) was much too pleasing to ignore. He could totally tell when she was trying not to laugh.

This was not one of those times. She really was getting aggravated.

"Z," the whining way he said her name set the girl's nerves on edge, an eye twitching behind her reading glasses. She snarled and flipped the page of her book with more aggression than necessary. It almost ripped. If she got up to leave now he would only follow. She honestly didn't feel like listening to him lope behind her, chattering incessantly.

Not that he was being particularly silent at the moment.

"I'm serious! Lookit what I can do!" She rolled her eyes and gripped her book tighter. Looking would only encourage him, looking would only encourage him, looking would only encourage him…

"Not cool! This is harder than it looks." Z slammed her book shut. "Shut your mouth _lapin stupide _(stupid rabbit)! Keep going and I swear to God I'll go find Bookman to bury you in work!"

"That's so cruel-" His comment ended in a yelp, the redhead finally losing his balance and falling from his incredibly illogical mode of transportation. A dull thwack echoed as his body met the floor. "Ow," Lavi called, both pathetic and over exaggerated. Z sighed, shook her head. She opened her book and attempted to find her page.

"Ow," he cried again, louder. Z ignored him.

"Ouchy, owwwwwwww…." Ignore.

"Z, I think I broke my ass."

"If I get the nurse you'll never learn."

"You're so mean to me. All the time."

"Only when you're an idiot. Now suffer quietly; I'm trying to read." Several moments passed, and Z was able to read to the next five pages before hearing the door open and shut.

Finally.

He'd be pouting for a few hours, but would quickly become distracted. It was never hard to get Lavi to forgive. Z's lips twitched, trying to climb into a smile at the thought of the boy's good humor. She really was too cruel to him.

She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, allowing her body to settle into the couch's cushions lazily. Now to read of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

Footsteps. She growled low in her throat. "Damn it Lavi. I don't care about your ass!"

"I should hope not. _My_ ass is the only one you should care about." Z started at the voice but relaxed when his hand brushed the top of her head.

"Don't flatter yourself." Her snort lacked passion, the words blending on the page as his very presence affected her. He walked into her line of sight and she forced herself to ignore him even, as her body heated in anticipation. "You didn't notice I'm back early."

"I didn't care if you came back at all." It didn't help her concentration when a hand covered her book, gently tugging it from her pliant fingers. "Jane Austin's _Pride and Prejudice? _Doesn't seem like your type of literature. I figured you were more of a _Medea _girl." Z looked away in slight embarrassment. Being drawn into romantic fantasy was a secret shame of hers, one he openly and carelessly mocked whenever he caught her reading of mindless affections. "Bite me." His grey eyes flashed. He had been waiting for her to say that.

The book was on the floor, his hand was on her arm, and he was yanking her to her feet. "Don't mind if I do," he hummed onto her lips just before pressing in for a fierce kiss. Z quickly relaxed in his arms, hands coming to rest on his biceps. His mouth moved against hers in sweet affection, his clothes still smelling of sweat and adrenaline from his mission. He nibbled her bottom lip before pulling away and leaving her breathless. Locked in his arms, she listened to his heart as his thumbs rubbed her back.

"I suppose you want me to ask how it went."

"I want you to, but you wouldn't mean it." She brought a hand to the base of his skull, combing through his hair tenderly. "You're back, aren't you?" Z made her voice gentle, a strange contradiction to her usual steel. "That means it was a success." He snorted. Casualties, akuma souls, injuries, all seemed to fade as he pulled her close to his warmth, surrounding her with his strength and light. All his love.

_No. Please, no. _

It was a numbness she just couldn't ignore, or possibly his body temperature was lower (but _just_) than usual. She want to remain ignorant, believe this was truly hers. This was what she wanted, what her body and soul demanded. But Z wasn't stupid. She wasn't blind.

"Allen," his name, after so long of silence, reverberated into their embrace.

"Zahara," he pressed his lips to her jaw bone as he whispered her name. Bittersweet sorrow rang through her, an ache that was growing quite tiresome. Could this have been? At another time maybe. Another Allen.

"Why are you doing this?" She pushed him away, but he went no further than a few inches. She could still faintly feel his breath on her face as he looked her in the eyes. His mouth contorted into an unsure smile. "I'm sorry. I thought it was appropriate to embrace my sweetheart upon my return." She frowned, eyes shadowed by ebony curls as she continued to resist. She had hated that name, her memories told her, ever since he had first used it a few months into their relationship. As hard as she tried, she just couldn't remember the exact occasion on which he had granted her the endearment. She couldn't remember anything, really. There were holes in this. The boy in her arms was transparent.

A boy she had known since girlhood, son of the man who had adopted her and allowed her to travel with them…

_No._

The boy who brought her to the Order after their master abandoned them…

_When did…? _

Her first kiss. Christmas morning. He was shaking as he handed her a gift of expensive perfumes and lotions. Blushing down at their holiday meal of pheasant and potatoes and carrots (of course his plate held much more) as she remained silent. Accepting her lips when she turned to him.

_That didn't happen._

Z's fingers trailed down, over scarred arms and to her own back, where his hands were folded behind her. Her eyes burned as she pried them apart and stepped from him.

"What is this?" Allen blinked, reaching for her only to be slapped away. His face was hurt. "I'm back from a mission. I wanted to see you."

"No…"

"No? What's wrong? Did I do something? Are you sick?"

"Stay away…"

"You're scaring me, Z. Please talk to me. I love you."

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" The frantic gypsy tossed him back with Beastly Beauty's strength. Allen but not Allen was sent into a bookcase, falling to the floor with a gasp of pain and surprise.

Z had to stop herself from running to him.

"What is this?" She asked again, voice shaking. He just gazed up at her as she approached with her Innocence at the ready. His eyes were dead, his mouth was a smile, his head was tilted to the side in confusion.

"Answer me!" Z screeched. A super strong hand grabbed the boy's throat. "You have five seconds to tell who you are and where I am."

Like the time they were trapped in an ice storm and she huddled close because…

"Stop!"

And of course he got her something for their three month anniversary. That lovely silver chain with the little sapphire heart…

"Liar!"

He loved her. He loved her so much. He'll never stop. She just has to be his. Forever and ever and ever and ever and….

"STOP IT!" She threw the boy to the side, clutching her head. These weren't her memories, this wasn't her world, this wasn't right. Why was this happening?

Z startled as the imposter stood, his face serious as he dusted himself off. She balled her fists in preparation as he began to walk towards her, only to stop several feet away.

"Zahara," the voice was emotionless but decidedly Allen. He held out a hand to her. "Come to me." She frowned despite her quivering legs. "No."

"It wasn't a question."

The library surrounding them began to fade. The warm tan of the shelves, the colorful spines of the books, everything began to degrade into shades of gray and black and dingy brown. Z turned for the door, only to find it gone. The boy spoke as though reading her mind. "You cannot leave. You must stay."

"Like Hell," came her hissed reply.

"You must. So that I may protect you." The fake Allen wasn't fading, at least not in the same way the rest of the room was. Only his eyes were affected, the soft and gentle blue-gray morphing into a stoic teal. Without pupils. A very familiar glow Z couldn't put her finger on with her mind in such disarray.

"Let me out. Now."

"You cannot leave."

"Let me out!" He used more speed than Z had ever seen Allen exhibit, grabbing her wrists in a firm but gentle grip. His nose brushed against hers, but nothing repulsed Z more than the thought of kissing whatever the Hell this thing was. She turned her head. "Who are you?" The being blinked. "I have no name. I am merely Innocence." Z's eyes widened. "What?" The self proclaimed innocence twitched in what may have been annoyance. "I believe I have been called Beastly Beauty. I am you. I am me. I am Innocence"

Shock stilled Z's struggles. Memories flashed, a dungeon, CROW, a Noah…

It had worked then? She was…where was she?

Z's bracelets and earrings chimed. "That's not possible. My Innocence is right here."

"I am there. And you are within me. So that I may protect you." That didn't make sense. Some sort of enigma within a cryptic message. How can she be inside what is inside her and yet standing before her?

"Magic," the Innocence answered her unasked question. "Is not for logic. They are at odds with one another; to relate them is folly." Z blinked still incredulous. "Where's the musician? If I am within you, why isn't he with me?" The being frowned deeply when she finally broke away and reinstated their distance. "The Noah is here as well."

"Where?"

"Quarantined. Another plane." plane? What does that mean?

"The most dangerous force in existence is the psyche," the Innocence continued, answering Z's mental questions. It was odd being fused with something so…humanoid. It changed as it spoke, longer hair, smaller bones, softer skin. Z was looking at her own reflection. "Your psyche created a plane in which demons are torn apart by their own wickedness. You send them here, I take care of the rest. However," teal eyes flashed. "The Noahs escape me."

The world shook, throwing Z to the ground. She had to look up at the mockery of her face. "This boy is hard for us to process. Both his Innocence and his lineage. But I will protect you; he shall be sent away. You shall stay here," the floor turned to tar, swallowing Z's arms up to her elbows, her legs sinking.

"Until the Noah boy is dead."

Lavender eyes widened in horror. "Y-you can't. You can't do this!" She struggled in vain, the floor pulling harder the longer she struggled. "Let me out! I can't stay!" She had to get out. She had to save Allen, she had to kill him to set him free. She had to…she wouldn't…he couldn't die without letting her see his face again!

"You'll be happy. I can be anything," the face changed. Lavi's green eye blinked at Z.

"You want," Lenalee giggled.

"Me to be," Z almost didn't recognize this woman. Long blonde hair, bright brown eyes. Z saw those lips and that nose in the mirror every morning, but the dress was old fashioned and covered in beaded designs. The woman smiled gently as she opened her arms to fold Z into a warm embrace. The younger woman grit her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. "No. Let me out."

"I cannot-"

"I _order _you to!" She pushed against the familiar aura, the urge to bury her face in the blonde woman's shoulder and let go or everythin. "You are attached to _me!_ This is _my _body! Take me to Allen now!" She had to control this thing. Only an amateur lost control of their body, lost who they were. She was Zahara, a gypsy, a witch, an exorcist, the most stubborn girl to ever walk this earth and like _Hell _she was going to let it end this way.

Z felt power surge within her, writhing and pushing out of her body. Capture. Contain. It leapt up again, almost swallowing her whole before she stifled it.

_No._

She tightened her grip as she felt it sliding. She felt the strange magic of her Innocence slither and squirm but she refused to let it do as it wished.

A crack appeared in her mother's face. "What are you doing?" The face remained passive, but the voice was somewhat irritated. And her mother's. Z heart clenched.

"Zahara," the voice was now sad, filled with tears, and so very familiar. Z was pulled close once again. "You're hurting me." The crack on its face spread down the center.

_Stop it._

"Its me. Mama. I love you." The body clutching Z felt fragile. She knew she was weakening it.

"Don't do this. I want to hold you. I want to keep you. My baby. My Zahara, why are you hurting me? I lov-"

With another, stronger wave, the being shattered into shining shards of green and blue.

Z heard her mother scream for the second time in her life.

She refused the tears of sorrow that gathered in the corners of her eyes as the floor released her. It wasn't Allen or Lavi or Lenalee so it wasn't her mother either. That wasn't _her mother. _It was good copy, a good doppelganger of those who had managed to get under her armor. It just brought back pain. Just pain. She could deal with pain.

She bit her lip and wiped her face. She hated crying.

The room had completely vanished with the embodiment of Innocence and Z was left floating in darkness. Vague shapes moved throughout, but she couldn't tell what they were or how dangerous. "Hello?" She called, eyes darting wearily. It was difficult not to be afraid, although Madame Nyne claimed the demons in the dark had only attacked akuma. "Allen?" Something brushed Z's leg, a caress, and she shrieked despite herself. A small twinge at the back of her skull alerted her to another shift in energies.

Everything began to rotate, like Z was in the center of a large, spinning globe. She clenched her eyes shut to fight nausea as she began to fall. And kept falling. Deeper into the darkness than it should've been able to go, so far she was sure that at some point she would hit the ground.

Z landed in sand. It was an odd blue color with skies of green above and a sea of gold beyond. "Damn it," she spat grit from her mouth. The realization that possessing such a power required time to practice struck her hard. The exorcist had no idea how to find the Musician in this labyrinth especially with new abilities she didn't completely understand. Z had fallen too deep into her own plan to go any further; she very possibly could be trapped like the Innocence had demanded.

_One more._

Z's eyes widened at the voice, head swiveling in an attempt to see who whispered to her.

_One more place. We can go. One more place._

One more? How did she know she could go…

_One more place._

Just when she thought she had gotten rid of her Innocence, it started giving her clues to finding her target. It wasn't physically influencing her but now sought to control her mentally. She bit the inside of her lips as her mind flared in anger.

_One more place._

"Shut up," Z growled to the open air. The red sun reflected off her bracelets as she glared at them accusingly. "Stop trying to stop me."

_One more-_

"Shut it."

…_One more-_

"No!" The Innocence obeyed. "That's what I thought." Z began to walk, leaving footprints in the sands.

She walked for what felt like hours in the still air. It wasn't hot, and it wasn't cold, it was a moderate temperature without the humidity that most beaches held. The sea of yellow threw gentle waves against the shores and, when Z stuck a foot in, the water was as warm as a bath. She came upon the same rock formation twice heading in one direction. It was strange. Like it was a giant loop. The sun didn't even move across the sky. Z grew frustrated as the same formation appeared again.

"Fine! I'll go!" The exorcist finally snapped, bored and convinced Allen was not in this area. Urgency filled her thoughts when she remembered that Noahs couldn't be contained long. Tyki wasn't here. Perhaps the Musician had also found a way out.

A feeling of reassurance and smug pride permeated the air as Beastly Beauty took her where she wanted to go.

_One more place._

"Just do it."

Z landed face down. Again. It would take some time to gain her equilibrium in this strange place. She sighed and lifter her face from the grass, already feeling hives appear on her arms and neck. She was allergic to grass. After the red tinted beach, the white light stung Z's eyes as she tried to gain her bearings.

Something small and hard struck her head. Startled, Z jumped backwards, landing in a low stance. Her fist was cocked, ready for a fight as her eyes took in the area. The sky was bright blue with light cirrus clouds, the sun a natural yellow. The green grass was growing in brown dirt, clusters of chrysanthemums and michaelmas daisies speckled throughout the area, among hundreds of ashy brown trees. She realized she had landed under one.

Under a walnut tree.

Oh.

Feeling foolish, Z sniffed and came out of her stance. Whatever. A great warrior was prepared for anything. Except nuts. She was sure she wasn't the first to make such an error.

A playful breeze lifted Z's free black hair, purple eyes searching for any sign that the man she sought was nearby. She took a step forward and another bout of foolishness filled her. She took off her shoes so she wouldn't bend the grass too badly.

Z abandoned her sandals and hoped to spot white hair amongst all the green. The grass clung to her bare feet as she walked, wrapping around her toes in what could be considered hugging. As she walked beneath another tree, this one bearing peaches, a plump fruit fell, quite conveniently, into her path as a branch ran through her hair. Just like all the other areas, this place was not normal. "Allen?" She called his name again, not expecting a response. He wasn't Allen, after all, but shouting the name "Musician" seemed rather stupid. She had reached a satisfying quota of idiocy for the day.

"Are you referring to me?" Z stiffened. The voice was close.

Just beyond her peace tree sat the largest tree of all. Unlike the others, it held no fruit and no leaves, its bark was a deep black, the same ever-changing black of her hair. It's branches were crooked and knotted like a witch's hand, large roots protruding from the ground and dead grass in a wide circle around the base. In the center, wrapped in muggy green vines that had no business on the trunk of a tree, was Allen.

The Musician.

Her target.

Z scowled, fighting down the relief and hatred rising in her system.

"Good evening, Musician." Yellow eyes watched her approach with bitter amusement, gray arms struggling against their confines.

"Please. Call me Neah." Z raised an eyebrow. Her heart was beating much too fast for battle. It seemed…elated. She was disgusted with herself. Shame made her movements stiff and awkward.

"Neah is a stupid name." She took a bite from the fruit in her hand. It was perfectly sweet, perfectly textured. The Noah smirked, a line of dried blood on his chin. He was covered in lacerations and contusions, the tree wrapped so completely around him he had to be having trouble breathing. It was difficult for Z to see Allen injured and to be unable to help him.

"I never noticed my name's intelligence. And I suppose Zahara is a name reserved for queens and goddesses?" Sarcasm. Z looked up into his face. She was so close their breathing mingled. "Yes. I believe it is."

"Your modesty is refreshing."

"Kiss my ass." A finger ran down his chest, meeting a vine and testing its strength. The foliage appeared to have a powerful grip on its captive with no intention of letting go. Good. Maybe it would be easier for her to leave him to starve instead of killing him directly. How long did it take for a Noah to die of starvation? Or, faster still, dehydration? Either way it would soon be over. Maybe Z would consider staying here after the fact. She would have nothing to look forward to back at the Order. Everyone would know she took the Musician. Everyone would know she was to be shunned. She would be right back where she started, running from invisible forces and wandering the world alone. No one could possibly help her carry the weight. How droll.

And Allen wouldn't be there. To greet her, to fight with. He would be snuffed like the glorified candlelight his life truly was. A would be hero murdered before he could turn into a villain. Z glanced down at cracked and parted lips, air rushing past.

She brought her mouth closer, gently pressing it against the prisoner's. They both kept their eyes open because anything else would've been submission, and therefore surrender. The Noah didn't seem surprised by this facsimile of affection and had the audacity to press back against Z's softer, sweeter mouth. The girl pressed harder still, smashing their teeth together and earning a low hiss of pain. She had hurt him. Good. This was not love. It was a display of dominance. Because his life was in her hands and she was damn well wrathful.

He hummed and licked his swelling lips when Z pulled away. "That was nice. You should do that again sometime." Z snorted and moved to stand a few feet away. It _did_ feel nice. Not as nice as it would've felt with Allen, but the familiar feel of his skin combined with the brush of his breath against her cheek had been somewhat comforting.

"I find this quite frustrating," Neah broke through Z's thoughts. "I was able to find my way through that horrible abyss, the sea beasts of limbo, and it is here, in this paradise, that I am undone. You are quite the worthy opponent," a fanged grin "witch."

Z winced slightly. "It is my Innocent's magic. I'm not really a witch."

"You and your Innocence working in conjunction then. I _know _Innocence lovely. While that would explain why this entire world _burns _me_, _it cannot explain the existence of these rather strange lands. I can't even open the gate to the ark in here." Z sneered. She took another bite of her peach and used her chew time to think. It wasn't possible. She wasn't what he thought she was. One person could never be powerful enough to create a whole other dimension. "Believe what you want."

"I believe I shall." Neah sighed and closed his eyes. They fell into silence, the only sound the moist tearing as Z's teeth sank into tender peach flesh.

"I thank you in any case. I never imagined that I would die with such beauty around me. Such," his eyes focused on the gypsy, turning soft "a lovely companion to witness." Z crinkled her brow in confusion, causing Neah to change his gentle smile back into a smirk. "You're not dying. Yet."

"Oh? You haven't noticed?" A shaking finger pointed to the dead grasses surrounding them. "This tree sucks away life. A nice thing to know before I approached, but it's a bit late for that. I'm much too weak at this point to escape. This monstrosity sucks life dry and leaves the body as an empty husk." He attempted to shrug but his shoulders just shook before lying still. "A truly awful thing for one so enchanting to create."

"I told you, it's my Inno-"

"Denial is such a nasty parasite," the Noah coughed violently, blood flecking on his lips before he was able to catch his breath. He chuckled low and licked the red from his skin.

Z felt her hands shaking. Her lips were set so that her face wouldn't work its way into the quivering mess it longed to form. He was dying. Which meant Allen was dying. Which meant they would both die. Together. And she would never see Allen again.

But this is what she wanted. She came all this way, invoked her Innocence to its full potential, in order to kill the Musician by her own hands. She wanted to spare her comrades the horror of the awful deed. Because Z was strong. Z knew what she had to do and could carry it out. She _could _because she wasn't like the others. She held them close because they belonged to her, not because she was attached. They were _her_ peers, _her _friends, and Z was just selfish in clinging to all her possessions. This man, however, had become a threat to her; she would cut him off like a dead limb.

Right?

"It's a shame," she lamented sincerely as her eyes wandered from his face. Neah slowly opened his eyes, growing weaker. "If you were still Allen," she choked on the name "I could save you." Madame Nyne claimed that her Innocence had protected her last time. The green glow of Allen's hand was still bright as Z touched the leathery scales, but it did nothing to save this foreign accommodator.

"Are we not on the same side? Opposing the Earl?" Z's finger migrated up his arm. "But you can't be here. I fight because I protect what is mine. You fight because you hate what you can't have." She retracted her hand. "You've stolen something that belongs to me. You will be punished."

_But Allen…_

"And if I," his breathing was haggard, struggling. He didn't have much longer. "Gave it back?" Z closed her eyes so she didn't have to look at him. She shouldn't trust a Noah. They were the enemy, and, human or not, she shouldn't hesitate to kill one. But this was different. This was _Allen_. He was hers. Z didn't like to lose.

Despite the fact that she had him cornered, she felt trapped. He had an out in death; she didn't. Either way would be a nightmare for Z as she continued to live. Allen would be dead or the Musician would be free. Stuck between a rock and living Hell. Being made to face the consequences of whatever choice.

"Allen would live. As long as you're gone, I don't see why not." She was too slow with her words. Neah's eyelids were falling as death tightened its grip. Z frowned to hide her concern.

"Musician?"

He had meant it when he said it was frustrating. But frustrating didn't seem strong enough to describe his attitude towards impending death. Disappointment. Anger. Woe. He was undone by a _child. _A witch child, but a child nonetheless.

"Hey!"

It was infuriating. But he didn't have the strength to express such fury. He didn't have the strength for anything but bitter amusement, really. The cold creeping through his limbs, the darkness crawling at the edges of his vision, the inability to expand his lungs. It was all too familiar.

"Neah!"

She was going to be one Hell of a woman someday. She was almost there. But not quite.

_I will kill you and become the Earl!_

It was a cry she hadn't expected. Because just before those eyes closed for good, just before his chest stopped expanding, she saw golden yellow revert to silver blue.

"Allen!" And gray was returning to a human pale pink.

"No! NO!"

And he whispered her name. Something inside her ripped.

Z clawed at the vines savagely, tearing through them like tissue paper as the tree willingly lessened its grip on Allen. She yanked him free, falling with him on her lap. The tree blended back with those around it, shrinking as it grew leaves and hid its roots. A trap for trespassers hidden in plain sight. Like the abyss and sea monsters the Musician spoke of.

Z listened for his heart. She tried CPR. "Allen? Please. Please don't leave me. I'm sorry! Please, oh God." The tears were finally free to make their way down Z's face as anger faded. Her vision blurred and her cries dissipated in the empty air. So alone, all alone, so alone.

"I'm sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry. Please." Nothing. His heart refused to respond. Frustration and fear overcame the witch, sorrow making her mind short circuit and sending sparks of pain to her core. With a heart wrenched scream, she slapped him across the face with all her strength.

Z buried her clenched fists in her eye sockets, rocking sobs taking her in spite of her efforts to stifle them. She swung between screams and low hiccups, this pain foreign and too deep for all her strength to fix. This was it. She was successful. She was the superior fighter, strategist, _survivor._

But she wasn't.

Because this hurt so much more than she had estimated. Drawing a hot poker through her soul in never ending torment instead of the swift rip tearing off a bandage. The girl regretted this. Everything about it, everything about _them_. The feeling of longing that had been haunting her for the past year and a half evolved and contorted into the more powerful feeling of raw guilt. Raw emotion. As though she caused this to happen by not changing _something._

If she had stayed with Mana.

If she had forced their relationship to evolve.

If she had accepted that mission in his stead.

Z gazed at him again in a moment of sobriety, wrapping her arms about herself and willing the painful cries to stop.

Red blossomed across his cheek.

Z blinked, more beads of water falling as she tried to stem her weeping. Red meant blood. Blood meant heart. Heart meant…

He gasped, spitting and choking as his lungs restarted. To Z's great relief his skin didn't turn gray. The eyes that flew open to stare at her were gray with chips of blue circling the dilated irises. The tears continued as she watched him blink her into focus.

"Z?" She pressed him back when he tried to sit up. "D-don't move. Y-you almost died and," exhaustion crept into her body. "Just…lie still." Very tired. It was so sudden. Like a light shutting off. She felt his finger on her face, tracing one of her tears. "Where are we? Why are you crying?" Z didn't answer, a breeze swept through the air, bringing the smell of rain as the air began to twist and bend.

"Z. What's going on?" Allen speaking with his own voice. What a strange thing to pine for. Z shook her head to clear it. So tired. "You talk too much, _perdant._" Tired. How is she this tired? Her body began to tilt to the side, arm breaking her fall as she laid beside Allen in the grass and turned her head to look at him. "I sent him away. Neah," she slurred and lifted her head above his heart. It still wasn't quite steady. But it was beating, and that was good enough.

The ground beneath them felt thin and Allen's pulse still beat the tempo of confusion and panic and the world was crumbling into shimmering pieces of Innocence and Z was lulled into peace. A rough hand wove into her hair as Allen pulled her close, protecting her as the sky began to fall.

They were going back.

_I am undone in paradise._


	11. Chapter 11

**BB says:** It's my birthday! Yes everybody, I was born on pi day (3.14 for those of us who really aren't that gifted in math. Like me). The day of infinity, baby! It's also Einstein's birthday and the day before Caesar died. It should be national nerd day…

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **No. That's all I have to say. If you still think there's any possibility that I could ever own _D. Gray-Man _or "January Brings the Snow" when there's literally only one more chapter left of the story than you really haven't been listening. Get out. Now. I'm mad at you, turn-coat. Leave your backstage pass!

"_Dull November brings the blast/ then the leaves go whirling past,"_

_~Sara Coleridge _

"Well, well, well. Isn't it nice you've rejoined the world of the living." Z snarled but realized, with a start, that she was harnessed to the bed. She thrashed for only a moment before settling in a long, burning glare that was directed at her visitor. This wasn't the way to wake her up. He had some nerve coming into her room and strapping her to her bed and…this wasn't her room.

It was the med ward; the smell of cleanser atop blood alerted her to her surroundings.

She was the only one in this particular room, although members of CROW lurked in the shadows around her bed as though expecting for to break her binds and lose control. Z did have half a mind to go on a murdering rampage but her stiff body and dizzying exhaustion was a decent enough deterrent.

"Release me. Now." Her voice was a croak and she winced at the sound. Rouvelier had the gall to look surprised at her demand. His eyes flickered from her bindings to her face like he was just realizing she was incapacitated. "Oh, yes. Of course Zahara. I only have your best interests at heart. Beneath the interests of the Church, of course, but I do worry for your comfort." He made no move to free her although he did lean more comfortably in his chair. Z's temper boiled beneath cold eyes.

"Don't patronize me, Rouvelier. Untie me or leave; either way I'll be rid of you."

"That's just cruel. I waited with bated breath for you to return and you lash out at me so hatefully." The man sighed dramatically. "You've been gone some time, Zahara." Z tried to hide the burning curiosity that appeared in her gut, shaking her tangled black curls to cover her eyes. "Oh," she focused on the indifference in her voice "have I?"

"Oh yes. I was concerned for your welfare; it was the popular belief that both you and Mr. Walker were dead. It's a relief you're still alive," his dark eyes flashed. "Imagine my surprise when your secret talent left you on the streets of Cairo." Z frowned, her neck developing a nasty stitch from looking over at the man. She turned her gaze on the ceiling. "It wasn't a secret. You never asked, so I never answered."

"Really, Zahara, a young woman your age is too old for games. Especially when I hold both your fates in my hands." Z couldn't stop herself from jerking, her eyes wide as she turned back to the man with the dark authority.

"You mean-"

"The, shall we say, 'incident' with the Noah need not leak any further than it already has. The only people who absolutely need to know about it are myself, Inspector Link, and of course, you." Z paused for a moment before once again trying to lunge off the bed. "The fuck are you trying to pull? You think I'm stupid? You think you can play me? You son of a bitch! You arrogant mustachioed jackass! I'll-"

"Be quiet and respect your elders."

"You mother fucking megalomaniac with no values or honor…" Z hissed. She knew she was in trouble, so the fact he was offering her a nonexistent exit was infuriating.

"Zahara, these displays of immaturity are making me question my decision. Would you prefer I disposed of the Noah? A nice, public execution in front of all your precious associates?" Z fell silent, narrowing her eyes with her fists still clenched in their bindings.

"I can see you're upset. Let's start over, shall we? Would you like some tea? Or cake?" Rouvelier stood and pulled a tray out of nowhere, stacked with incredibly decorative cakes. Although her stomach grumbled, Z longed to be free to knock the platter from his hands and sneer.

"Dispose of…Allen?" The tall man blinked and set the plate on her nightstand. "Strictly business? I like that. Well then, yes. If you refuse my terms, the Noah will have to be eliminated. Along with the traitor who freed him, of course."

"You-"

"I don't ask for much. Obedience would be nice. A bit of loyalty considering all the mercy I have showed you in not reporting to the Vatican with my tale of Noahs and traitors." Z took a breath and closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself. She needed to cool down in order to think straight but it was a struggle to keep herself from shouting again.

"You want me to be a puppet." Rouvelier smirked. "That makes it sound like I'm forcing you. I prefer the term 'duty bound associate'." Z bit her lips against another biting retort, face twisted in a pain that wasn't quite physical.

Her pride was at war with some part of her that was still on the mend. The throbbing red mass that lay heavily in her chest and had been making quite the nuisance of itself over the past few years.

In her younger days Z had every confidence that it had died and she felt all the better for the loss. Without its constant nagging and instructing she was a free woman, wandering this world with a protection not many could boast of. But she soon came to realize that, like a slumbering leviathan, the force of heat and emotion within her had merely been biding its time before punishing her all the more for its period of neglect. It had shattered at the appearance of the Fourteenth, throbbed with his almost death, and was now shrieking in the most obnoxious way possible to force Z's hand in the matter. What could she do, it questioned, with her hands tied in such a way? How else could she protect this newfound vulnerability?

"Spy on my comrades, report back to you if they so much as sneeze incorrectly," Z murmured. "You honestly believe I can be controlled so easily?"

"You're not a doll, I'm not controlling you. Let's just say you owe me a favor, and that should guide your future actions." The straps on Z's arms and legs snapped open. She hadn't even noticed the CROW inching forward. The young woman sat up immediately once free. She still had to gaze up at her intimidating opponent, but at least she didn't feel like she was at his mercy any longer.

"Well, I should let you get your rest. You've had quite the time of it, Zahara. I imagine you're still fatigued." The man ran a finger over the patch of hair on his upper lip and folded his hands behind his back. He was ignoring the scowling girl and her clenched fists, but CROW stiffened. "Such fascinating Innocence you have," he spoke as he left the room "hiding you for a month. Absolutely incredible." Z fell mute beneath the weight of her shock, and by the time she had thought of a response the door had closed. And she was left in the dark. With a scream of frustration, she knocked the platter of cakes to the floor causing several nurses to come running in.

The word spread that there were some unforeseen difficulties on Allen's mission, difficulties that were strictly classified information. Z had taken it upon herself to bring him back, somehow managing to escape with both their lives and a only slightly ruffled Link. He seemed a bit more distant than most people remembered. And certainly gave Allen wider girth than before. But many attributed this to Allen proving himself trustworthy over the years, the supposedly hibernating Noah within him not reinforcing itself as previously feared. His friends within The Order gave a silent cheer for the boy in their misinterpretation of the situation.

Z was left in the med bay for four days, not because she was injured, but because she couldn't get out of bed. Literally. Her legs folded like card castles beneath her whenever she tried to leave. Her curses and screams of frustration echoed through the castle as she tried again and again and again to no avail for two days. Her hands were continually shaking from the strange exhaustion weighing down her movements, and dizzy spells kept sneaking up on her even when she was laying absolutely still. It was only when she stopped trying to force herself that her body began to cooperate.

In the mean time she was subjected to flocks of Finders and Science department members who demanded the details of her rescue mission. How she had found the rampant Mr. Walker and what she had to face on the mission and why they hadn't made contact for three months. The same questions asked in varied voices. Their Finders had been killed in the fray. Z's golem had gone missing and Timcampy was on the fritz. And of course Allen had forgotten everything. Did they not remember the last days before he left? Hadn't he been stressed out and overworked? It wasn't strange for over-stimulation to result in long term memory loss. Or something like that.

It wasn't difficult for Z to weave a plausible lie, but the repetition left her antsy and mean; many left her room complaining of her rude behavior and dismissive voice. The only ones who visited repeatedly were those closest to her, used to her abrasive personality. It was these visits Z actually looked forward to because, despite their questions, she knew they would know when to leave. Z surprised everyone (even herself) by gracing the crying Lenalee with a gentle smile as she accepted the Chinese girl's too tight hug ("Z, what the Hell is that on your face? Is that…a smile? OH MY GOD! LENALEE, SHE SMILED AT YOU! RUN!"). Ah. If she had the strength to stand she would break Lavi's nose.

When Allen finally appeared in her room, they sat in silence. There was no greeting, no questions, no mandatory smiles. He walked in as she slept the third night. The feel of his eyes on her stirred the tired girl awake. She sat up. They looked at each other. And away. And back again.

For an hour. Silence.

The next morning she took stumbling steps to the mess hall, where she ordered herself the first real breakfast she'd had in a long time. Eggs, bacon, waffles with cherries and syrup on top, orange juice with a bit of lemon in it. Oh, she was going to be so sick later. Good thing the Head Nurse was bound to appear and drag her back to her bed at any time.

Z almost fell, her clumsy feet taking her down, but a strong hand grabbed her and guided her to sit with her…friends. She leaned on him shamelessly, the strength of his body comforting to her recent anxiety and emotional drainage. Needless to say they didn't speak a word to each other despite the fact they sat shoulder to shoulder.

The constant silence in their nonexistent relationship wasn't as painful as most would have seen it. Although some interpreted it as the strange tension floating between the two thickening into a viscous sludge, the wise ones of the peanut gallery saw it as an understanding. An understand of what was yet to be seen. But a compromise nonetheless.

_We're going to talk about this. _

_Not now. _

_Soon._

Z was able bodied after a week, stomping through halls and sneering at people like she was used to doing. She felt more like herself than she had in a long time (a month, she had been gone a _month_) and could feel herself strut authoritatively. While she didn't know how or when she would be able to use this hidden aspect of her Innocence again, just being able to access it gave her a confidence she had never known. Like she was finally on her way to understanding the finer workings of her pact with Beastly Beauty. She felt powerful.

"You going to the training grounds?" Z startled, confused at the sound for the briefest of moments before finally turning. His voice hadn't addressed her in so long…she finally noted the way he spoke to her. Hushed. Guarded. Revered. She had never noticed before and didn't acknowledge it now.

His white hair had grown long over the years, held back in a low ponytail and out of the way of grey eyes that were a little wiser. He had developed into young adulthood well; gone was the gangly, somewhat skinny boy with the sheepish smile. He had new scars like everyone else, his voice had deepened, he was now noticeably taller than Z. The shy British boy had been replaced by a cautious young man with a lithe frame and broad stride, a firm jaw line and a regal nose.

His aesthetic appeal was amazing. Z wasn't too proud to admit this to herself.

She couldn't help but remember their last sparring match. How it ended.

"What plus is there to me kicking your ass? For you, I mean." The female exorcist taunted to hide the fact she had been staring. "Honestly, you must be a glutton for punishment." Allen didn't even flinch. He just continued watching her with those much too piercing eyes of his. Slowly, a smile crept across his face, like he was trying so desperately to suppress it but in the end lost control.

"You know you miss it." Z snorted and shrugged. "I miss the challenge."

"Of course. What did you think I meant?" Z chose not to respond. She continued walking, bare feet slapping stone as she made her way to the training grounds. Silence reigned again, Z basking in the presence of the boy beside her. Things felt better. Not right. There was still too much to work out, too many threats to simple happiness. But Z was momentarily content with the person she had been trying to kill barely a month before.

It was strange to see Allen without his shadow. Link was seen less and less these days; Z couldn't help but wonder if Rouvelier had come under the impression she would take over the job of Walker-sitting. She would rather not. It would be preferable to coat herself in honey and wrestle a starving bear.

She felt her fellow exorcist watching her as she tossed her towel to the side and threw her hair into a high bun. It was getting much too long, stands of it sticking out of her messy tie and brushing her shoulders in the cold November air. Gooseflesh was rising on her arms as she stretched hastily.

"You ready?" Allen nodded, not disguising the fact he had been looking at her. He actually held her gaze as she pulled into a low, offensive stance.

Silence. And they began.

Now, years after the awkward rift had formed between them, Z was bigger. Not taller, but her body had finally finished developing the smooth curves a young gypsy woman possessed. Not skinny, but fit, not fat, but big, with hips and thighs and proportioned breasts sitting above a tidy waist. Had she not been in the habit of physically training herself, it would have taken time to adjust to this new body. Now she was called upon to adjust to the older, longer Allen.

"We're not the same kids." Z startled when Allen voiced her mental conclusion.

"I'm not sure we ever were truly children," came her muttered response as she gave a graceful pirouette and slammed her heel into his body. Allen stumbled, but didn't fall. "I'd like to think," he grunted and threw her back "that we had a grace period. A time of uncertainty and mistakes." Z grabbed his fist but he tossed her, only for her to land on her feet a short distance away.

"If so, than it there wasn't much of a window. An extensive 'grace period' would get someone killed on the battlefield." Z threw her body into the air, one leg extended in a damaging kick. He caught her foot and dragged her down. She twisted her body and caught herself on her forearms. "I'm a bit of an optimist Z." The young woman ripped her foot from his grasp, bring her legs up and over her head in a flexible back bend. Returning to her feet she looked at him in a momentary pause.

"Yes. I know." Wind, harsh and chilled, blasted through the clearing. The air was bright with the deepest part of autumn as brown leaves leapt and bound through the dying grasses. Z curled her toes at the sudden thickness in the air, dreading what she knew was coming.

"Z. I want to know what happened." She winced. Just a little. "Haven't you heard the stories? I'm pretty sure word circulates through the Order fast enough." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I want to hear it from you." The corners of her lips sagged in a barely there frown. "Did you come to spar, or to talk?"

"Z-"

"Why do you need to hear it from me? I've told practically everyone in the whole fucking organization. If you don't get it now, you never will." She was rambling. She couldn't stop. "Waste of time. You're throwing off my entire process. You're lucky I made the time to see you. I have a strict regiment that I haven't been able to follow during my recovery. And now you're eating up my daylight hours." Inexplicable anger. Z scoffed and moved towards her towel without meeting his eyes. "We're done."

"I had to talk to you, Z." His voice was subdued but carried authority. "I knew you wouldn't lie-" she scoffed, interrupting him. "To _me._ You've never once lied to me. Not when it was important. I know you won't start now." Z froze. "I've already told the others-"

"A lie. A very good one. But you can't lie to me." The young woman sighed, wilting. "Why do you want to know? Why can't you just accept the story I've already created? It's so much easier." She heard him walk towards her, leaves crunching beneath his feet. A hand ghosted over her shoulder and she turned to face him. "I can't remember over a month of my life. It's all in bits and pieces," his fingers brushed her neck although the bruises left by The Musician had long since faded. Z stepped back, but not far enough. He caught her by the elbow, his eyes continuing to burrow into her. "Don't you think I deserve to know?"

Z faltered at the hurt in his voice. She hadn't lied to make this hard; she did it to protect him in her own way. It was all too ironic that her heroic act was only causing him more pain. "Fine," she snapped half-heartedly from behind her last defense. "But don't blame me if you don't like it."

It didn't take her long. The sun had left the horizon but didn't offer much warmth as they leaned on a barren tree together. The sky remained cloudless.

Allen listened adamantly, taking in Z's every word with an impassive face. She could tell it was a struggle for him not to speak, not to ask questions. She wondered what her own face looked like. If it reflected the confusion and shame she was reading in his.

"I didn't," Allen struggled to speak when the story had finished "hurt anybody, did I?" His cheek had come to lean on Z's shoulder, his breath leaving a trail of warmth across her collarbone. "No."

"Good." He sighed. They were quiet for a moment. "I think I knew. That it was something to do with The Fourteenth. But I didn't want to believe…I mean, it's a scary thing, right?" It took Z a moment to realize he was shaking. She wasn't sure it was from the cold. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as she had interpreted. "The thought that I'm not me one hundred percent of the time. That there's someone else. And I can't even remember…" His cracking voice faded into silence. "Allen?" He jerked to attention. "Y-yeah? Sorry." An arm wrapped around Z's waist and pulled her closer.

"Allen." She wriggled uncomfortably but his grip didn't loosen. "Hmmm?" Actions speak volumes. And the way he clung to her, like she was the last solid thing he could be sure of, was both terrifying and exhilarating. So she stilled. He whispered something. "What?" Z turned to look at the top of his head.

"I don't want to hurt you…or anyone else." She couldn't bring herself to sneer.

"Like you could. You would just wind up injuring yourself in someway."

"Z. I almost killed you."

"I returned the favor."

"Because _I_ asked you to, remember? Maybe it would've been better…" Z stiffened. "Shut up, fool. What do you know about the future? How can you say things would be any better without the Destroyer of Time here?" Allen was silent.

"No, you didn't almost kill me. And I doubt you ever could. Stop taking credit from Neah." Allen jumped at the sound of the name, bringing his head up to look at her. Z raised an eyebrow. "You're not Neah. Neah is not you. You may share the same face but I don't believe Allen Walker would even have the balls to hurt anything larger than a spider." Allen closed his eyes, a frown between his eyes. "You don't know that."

"No. But I'm stubborn enough to cling to my own beliefs even if they kill me. So stop your pathetic whimpering. You've been strong in the past. Now you're being called upon to be mighty and you think it's acceptable to crumble under the weight this far in. I thought you said you would keep walking no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing yourself. Do you think being murdered while not in your right mind is a sacrifice for the greater good? Being killed before fulfilling whatever destiny you're supposed to be following? Stop leeching off the strength of others when you have plenty. I'll not offer you comfort if you want to take the easy way out." Allen stayed silent. Z forced herself to stop talking, afraid, for the first time in her life, that she had said too much. A shaky smile formed, followed by a hollow laugh.

"I don't like spiders." he whispered.

"I know," she snipped.

"Akuma are bigger than spiders."

"Don't be so literal, _lourdaud _(jackass)." Allen chuckled and adjusted so he was sitting up straighter. His eyes were shining, but from tears or emotion was yet to be seen. "You're something else, Z." She huffed. "Don't tell me I offended you with the truth." Allen shook his head. "I guess…" he looked away "I didn't want to hear that. I didn't want to think that I'm so weak. But maybe…I needed to hear it?" Z raised an eyebrow. "You did." Her voice had softened, just a bit.

Allen leaned closer and changed the subject. "And what insult have you bestowed upon me this fine day, Mademoiselle?"

"_Lourdaud? _Jackass."

"Very nice. Do you hate me so much?" Closer still. Their noses were touching.

"Yes. I hate you." He pressed his lips to hers. Z pulled away after several confused seconds.

"What are you doing, _imbécile?_" A hand cupped her cheek, brushing just beneath her eye. "I really don't know," He smiled softly. "Should I stop?" Z placed a hand on his chest. He was wearing a loose cotton shirt today; it was too cold for him to spar topless. His pale face was flushed from the cold and emitting a warmth that made Z want to lean in again. She really didn't want to stop. "This won't work. It can't. Look at us." His heart was in her hand. She closed her fist.

"I know. But I can't help it."

_What would this do?_

"Don't wear on your sleeve what you don't want a gypsy to steal."

Allen tugged her back towards him, lips caressing hers again with chaste affection. It was Z who made it more aggressive, sliding her hand from his chest to his shoulders, reeling him in until she wasn't sure where his mouth ended and hers began.

_What will this change?_

Not one to be controlled (his fight was back, Z thought with elation, ready to fight to the end. God, that was _delicious_) Allen wrapped his hand in her hair, its partner at her waist tightening its grip and leaving no room between their bodies. Shocked, Z gasped, heating the kiss further. It was almost like before, them fighting for domination, but their movements seemed a little less frenzied. A little more sincere.

_Nothing._

Allen pulled away and rubbed his nose against hers so sweetly Z felt one of her teeth ache. She sighed. "I'm going to hurt you."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "The second I feel anything less, I'm walking away."

"Smart. I'll do the same." He pulled away. Hooded grey took in shimmering lavender. "We should get back," his whisper didn't hold conviction. But Z nodded anyway. They unwound their bodies and he helped her to stand because she suddenly couldn't feel her legs. "Still recovering?" Allen joked at her expense as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Z felt her face heat in indignation. She bit her lips to avoid the small smile that wanted to form, forcing a scowl to fill her face.

"You've caused me to rebound, _lourdaud._" Allen chuckled, unlocking his arms and sliding a hand into hers. Z couldn't fight it any longer. She smiled. But a tiny one.

This wasn't a cure.

But it was a nice balm.

_Everything._


	12. Chapter 12

**BB says:** Alrighty tighty. This is the last chapter of "Bring the Snow." Yes, yes, I know. I hate it too, but all good things must come to an end, no? I originally thought to create a sequel, but now I don't know if I feel like it. At most I might have a few drabbles in me, but I think the adventures of Zahara may have to stop here. We'll see.

**Rating: **Pretty strong teen. Yep. Teen.

**Disclaimer: **…

"_Chill December brings the sleet/blazing fire and Christmas treat,"_

_~Sara Coleridge_

She couldn't see straight, so thick and rapid the tears fell, her own sobs stifling in the void left by the end of the battle. Everything had come to an abrupt end, deathly silent, all the animals and many of the people long dead from the start.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not the fact they had won the snowy day. Not the glimmering Innocence hidden in the belly of Timcampy. Not even the corpse of the lesser Noah lying to the side, gray skin pallor and golden eyes losing their glow.

There was blood on her hands. Up her arms. In her mouth. Much of it was her own. But most of it was his.

And the tears fell heavier.

It felt strange, vulnerable, to cry after so long, a long forgotten skill practiced once again. It wasn't a habit, to submit to the helpless muscle tension that wrung the saline droplets from her clenched eyes. Nothing short of excruciating _agony_, could lead her to this point. Something so _burrowing, _so _constant, _so all consuming it its depth that the hope of ever feeling anything else was non-existent. The extinguish of any hope that could come. The other side had vanished and abandoned her in her hollow ache.

Like before. Left behind. Damn him.

He was looking at her now, silver eyes blurred but somehow still alert, torso a mess of crimson and serrated flesh, giving his life to a bed of silken white sleet. His Innocence was deactivated, allowing the occasional twitch to express its overextension, swollen, painful veins throbbing around the glowing cross. His fleshed hand made no attempt to hold him together as its godforsaken counterpart jerked and clenched uselessly on the ground. Pale pink and cool calloused fingers found her face, tracing the soft contours and encouraging his heavily lidded eyes to do the same. They found the path of her tears and gently pressed and smeared, trying to dry them.

_Fichu leu _(damn him).

She wanted to say so much, to scream and yell and throw him to the ground. To chastise him for his weakness, his selfish ways and complete disregard for consequences. This was not how he was to end, not the prophecy that drove so much of the Order's proceedings. He was supposed to defeat the Earl, Destroy time, and if he died in the process than at least he had completed his duty. At least he would have proved that he wasn't evil, that he wasn't just a puppet to be claimed and manipulated by either the Order or the Noah.

That he was _Allen._

He was _not _supposed to be lying here gazing up at her with regretless eyes as death claimed his limbs on a meaningless battlefield. He was _not _supposed to be caressing her face with fading strength or swimming in his own bloody lungs.

She wanted to scream. But all that came out were choked sobs.

It made her all the angrier. More sobs, followed by a hiccupping gasp that was an attempted curse.

There was a twitch as the bastard in question dared a bloody smile. Gentle, comforting, a blood bubble forming at the corner of his lips even as his dried tongue attempted to wet his drier lips.

"Never thought," he whispered, breathing shallowly "I'd ever see the invincible Z cry." He choked blood, streaming from his mouth and nose as his lungs filled with gore. It was in his hair and on his clothes, gathering in a crimson pond around them. The hand that wasn't supporting his head clenched as Z unconsciously tried to hold the broken pieces of his body together.

"Fuck y-you," she gasped "selfish, a-asshole." He wanted to laugh, whether at her poorly presented anger or his own mortality Z couldn't tell. But his face twisted into a wider smile before his eyes flickered shut.

She thought that when she opened her mouth again, she would shriek and shriek and shriek out all the pain that was a tightened knoll deep within her chest. It would be an eternal carrying note of pain, heard around the world so that humanity would know the sacrifice of this day. That one boy…one _man _had given up everything for their pitiful existence. In the hope that a leeching species would continue to devour the world and pollute the air with smog and war. She hated humanity so much for being helpless, for causing a demand of protectors like exorcists to save them from creatures created by their own woe. For claiming what was _hers. _She wanted to curse them all. But all she could produce was a silent scream, air whistling harmlessly from her gaping mouth.

As quiet as it was, she still hadn't heard the footsteps fast approaching. She didn't notice her company until someone wrapped their arms around her breathless body and hauled her to her feet, dragging her away from what was left of the Destroyer. Her sight became a hazy blur of her own flying limbs and her throat's angry screeches.

She lashed and struggled, landing blows on her would be captor as they took her further and further from what she wanted most. This was it, he was leaving her, she wanted to stay, she wanted to be by his side until the last of life left him. She wanted to feel him leech the warmth of her body, engulf him with everything she had left. She wanted the last thing he saw and felt was her holding him so that at least she could feel like she hadn't failed him.

The person held tight, their grip powerful and much stronger than Z. She wasn't thinking straight and was too weak to activate Beastly Beauty; they easily contained the pathetically bleating young woman as she struggled. Her cries became words just before the exhaustion and stress blacked her out, voice hoarse from useless screams and weeping.

"Allen! Allen! ALLEN!"

The typical mass funeral was held, the air heavy with woe and the antibacterial smell of the wounded. Sobs crawled and hung like bats from the echoing ceiling, the rose cross large and silver and authoritative in the mass of unmarked coffins. Lives that gave the ultimate sacrifice and whose families would never know of that powerful gift.

Nurses weaved through the crowds, assisting patients and gently cajoling those who needed to return to bed. The Head Nurse was no where in sight, leaving those who constantly broke her rulings -Lenalee, Timothy, Lavi- to wander through the wounded and offer their own heavy burdens to the thick cloud of lament. It was a closed occasion, for family only, supporting each other and holding the injured close as they sought company for their misery.

Not Z. She couldn't being herself to leave her post in the shadows, leaning over the railing to watch people mourn and wail shamelessly. Like this was some unforeseen event, like they didn't risk their lives _knowingly _every fucking day of their shitty lives because no other choice was to be had. Because she knew they knew this would happen. On an unconscious, deeply buried plane of being they all knew that no happiness ever sought would last as long as it was wanted, _needed_. Nothing was forever, everything good ended too early, and at the dip in the hill was always the lowest valley one could ever come to face.

And those below, ignorant in their wretchedness and blind to their own lack of defenses, could never see what she could. Never feel this deep, bottomless pit that had formed from her own dense despair. Her own unhappy truths.

She was so angry.

So grief stricken.

She honestly couldn't tell the difference between life and death any longer. Perhaps the line between the two was as nonexistent as it had been her whole life, a razor's edge she was been forced to walk. She was being hollowed out by heavy darkness as it sucked the light from her eyes and the power from her steps. She was surprised to wake on new mornings, amazed she hadn't simply let go in her sleep and somewhat disappointed to be made to live another day of empty pain. It left her cold. Broken. Silent. She hadn't spoken in a week, and didn't intend to for a long while.

"Come on, Z. We're not mad or anything." Like that was the issue.

"I think it's wonderful. It's okay you hid it from us. We understand." Your opinion doesn't matter.

"Why don't you go see him? It'll be good for his recovery." No.

Her eyes were blank as she stood and went to her room, locking herself in and rarely surfacing to eat. Food was loosing its appeal, she lost weight and sleep as the days drug on in fuzzed monotony. She was a being of the shadows now, praying that no one saw and offered pity to their once powerful empress. The wonder and whisper in her wake at the heavy burden that no one could sense.

She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to even be in the same room as him, acknowledge him. She was so damn angry she didn't know what she would do if left alone with the unconscious young man covered in so many bandages it was almost comical. To know that this one being could make or break her. She couldn't look at him.

God, how she hated him. With every fiber of what she was she despised what had made her rely upon him so heavily. The loss of him could destroy everything she was and could ever be. Throw her into Hell even as his soul was released to the cotton warmth of heaven. He had taken her power away, her ability to simply subtract herself from the situation and effectively weakening her.

Z had known it wouldn't work from that first kiss two weeks previous, from the moment her heart came to beat together with his. This reliance was terrifying and strange, a weak spot that she was honestly disappointed she hadn't found sooner. It had to be eliminated.

No more hands under the table.

Meetings in the shadows.

Gentle brushes in the halls.

No. More.

It was easier this way, honestly. They couldn't afford to worry for each other in battle, seek to protect one another and leave themselves open to attack. That was what happened, wasn't it? The stupid martyr had leapt in to defend her and in the end was worse off for it.

Dead actually.

Z had felt his heart stop. It was a miracle they got it jump started again.

The image was still engrained in her mind, coming to the forefront every time she closed her eyes. Better to stop it now, silently, gently. Starting with distance between them.

She wasn't foolish enough to wish he would forget her. But she could hope.

"I need a mission." The first four words spoken in a month. Trying hard not to think of sweet gray eyes and a gentle smile flitting across a horribly beautiful face.

"Z," Komui was one of those trying to understand, to figure the girl's twisted logic in avoiding the one thing they had ever seen her so…_passionate _about. Desperately attached to. Something that caused her both misery and joy and she was devastated at the thought of his death. He gazed at the hollow shell that had once been so intimidating, deep shadows beneath her snuffed eyes and a pallid tint to her sun ripe skin. Pity welled deep in his heart, mingling with disappointment and horror at the pain this girl brought to both herself and Allen.

The messy office was decorated for the Christmas season, red, gold, and green cascading from unorganized shelves and fake snow kicked about on top of important documents. Garland was strung where the walls met the ceiling, strings of popcorn and candles hanging from the branches of a miniature pine tree perched on the edge of the desk. A ridiculously decorated stocking swung from the front of the office door, compete with waving robotic Santa arms and an ornate letter K. "Do you really want-"

"Yes. The sooner the better. Make it long." He raised an eyebrow, warm eyes in one of their rare, serious gazes.

"Have you talked to Allen yet?" Z hissed low in her throat, resisting the urge to turn and retreat at the question. So much for her preparedness. He got right to the meat of the issue, not fluffing the situation with meaningless babble. She wondered how he knew, but was sated by the knowledge that her relationship with her fellow exorcist was a delicious nugget of gossip for all who would listen. "No." Komui stiffened and sat up straighter in his chair. Like his worst fears had been realized.

"Then you can't leave yet."

"Yes. I can." The man rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, fatigued by the whole situation and wishing he hadn't become the last line of defense. That someone else had been forced to butt heads with the stubborn girl in an attempt to make her undergo damage control. He reached for his favorite mug of coffee, but it was empty.

"What do you want me to say? Do you expect me to let you leave an innocent boy to suffer? Can you honestly say you feel nothing in just abandoning him?" He folded his hands on his desk to show his unwillingness to participate. "This isn't right. I'm actually surprised you're running from the situation like this. I never expected something so cowardly and underhanded. Not from you." His words cut her deeply, but Z continued watching him in forced apathy.

No. She didn't care.

Stupid boy loved _everyone. _It didn't matter.

She didn't care. About him or anyone else. The black abyss thriving within her made sure of that.

"Damn it Z," the Chinese man was exasperated by her silence. "You can't do this. You know you can't just walk away and pretend like nothing ever happened. If this is anything like I think it is, if he cherishes you like I think he is capable of doing, then he deserves more than careless abandonment. You can't tell me that you don't feel _anything_, that there's nothing-"

"Mission, Komui. I'm not asking."

"That's too bad. Because my answer is no until you work this out maturely." Z bit the inside of her lips angrily.

"Even if you make me stay here," she growled "you can't make me talk to him. You can't make me," she wrinkled her nose in disgust, a hint of shame entering the shadows on her face. "'Work it out.' I can avoid him as long as I need to and you _have _to send me on a mission eventually. This conversation is pointless." A struggle took place on the scientist's face as he longed to continue persuading her while weighing the chances of her reacting well to force. If he tried to make her mend the rift, who was to say that it wouldn't worsen things, that she wouldn't tear the boy to ribbons in her fury?

He sighed through his nose. Z knew she had won.

Happy Christmas, oh heartless monster.

She remained silent and stiff on the couch as he rustled through the papers on his desk, her hands folding tightly in her lap.

"Here," he held out the folder as though disappointed in both of them, his eyes burrowing into her forehead in a feeble attempt to appeal to her nonexistent softer side. But Z was set in her ways, refusing to back down on any previously made decisions.

"An ongoing sandstorm has been spotted in the desert east of the pyramids. While we are not certain Innocence is the culprit, Finders are on location to investigate any other strange phenomenon that may be happening in the same area. You are to go attempt to reclaim any Innocence that the scene has to offer…if any. And offer protection to the camp. You leave in three days." He didn't let go of the paper work when Z reached out to accept. "Z," his tone had gone from disapproving to slightly pleading "reconsider. If you're running away from this, I want no part. Think of Allen. Think of what this is doing to him."

She snatched the assignment and turned to leave, footsteps echoing in the thick, silent air. "You'll destroy him." The gypsy chose to ignore the accusatory whisper that followed her into the hall.

In a place like The Order, where family was a loosely used term that was flung out on a whim, privacy and security was never much of an issue. Most occupants held close relationships with their "brothers" and "sisters" while others were plenty confident in their ability to defend against any threat their peers could possibly offer. While the latter theory was constantly tested by Komui's assembly line of robots and the off chance of invading demons, the basic concept held true:

The Order was a safe place.

Which was why most in this surrogate family thought it unnecessary to undergo the simplest of security measures. Clothes, food, even jewelry were left unattended at any given time, a silent testament to the faith that the occupants of the ancient castle held in each other. There were the occasional pranks, things could go missing, but nothing extreme, no one was ever hurt (again, there were the occasional robot or akuma, but it had been awhile since either plight haunted the halls).

So when a room was left unlocked its owner could rest assured that no one would steal what little, if any, treasures were to be had within. That the visitor would be polite enough to knock before entering and not entering at all if the knock wasn't responded to. The only reason to lock a door was added security when one was changing clothes and people often forget even this condition.

Z retired to her room, exhausted and knowing that sleep wouldn't come. She would come close, of course, her body would still, her muscles would rest, but her mind and her heart would take no breaks. Her thoughts would stray again and again to the pain in her chest, while said pain throbbed with every breath and begged for relief in the form of warm arms. A rough hand, a soft hand pressing her into a strong chest, a strong heart that beat the same tempo as her own.

She bit her lips, the sharp iron tang of blood telling her she'd finally bitten too hard. She tore free of her day clothes aggressively, pulling on her typical night shirt and throwing herself to her bed. Her loose raven tresses buried her in a curtain of black, shielding her from the glow of the full moon that was trying to stir her into action.

_Please. _

_Please. _

_Leave me alone._

She couldn't breathe deeply, pain rebounding to its full extent now that she was safe in her room. Angry tears rebelled against her will, storming free of her straining eyelids.

_It's for the best. _

_I'm protecting him._

_Protecting both of us!_

Z wanted to hit something. Something hard and sure not to crumble, something that would break her fingers or cut into her flesh before giving way. She wanted to hurt in a way she could fix, something that only needed bandages and salve to be well again.

The door opened. She shot up, tears still falling.

He locked them both in.

It was like seeing a ghost with white hair, pale skin and a challenging glare in his storm cloud eyes. Z stared back at him in clear defiance, refusing the blame his eyes threw at her with the force of bullets. She could tell from the way he stood, the stiff coil in his muscles that there was no escape; he would catch her before she even made it to the door, dragging her back to repent for her sins.

She would fight, she told her limp body and noodle legs, she would fight her way out if she had to. She was strong and stubborn, set in her ways. Zahara wasn't just some woman to be bullied, she was the scourge of the Order, an all mighty force to be reckoned with! Let all tremble in her wake, let-

Allen came forward, causing Z to jump and scoot further back on her bed. He covered her floor with long strides and a determined gait, while she struggled to untangle herself from her mess of sheets and hair. A gasp escaped parted pink lips, a powerful arm shooting forward to drag her off her mattress and shove her into the cold stone of her wall. He blocked her with his arms, imprisoning her in the fortress of his body.

Breaths, harsh and mingled, made the small cold room unbearably stuffy. Z longed to open her window and allow the frigid December air to keep the world at a frozen temperature, prevent this spot from going any further. Only now did she recognize her mistake, a severe miscalculation that was going to throw her entire plan into disarray. There was only so far a person could be pushed, taunted before acting. Even Allen had that point where he stopped giving breaks and forgiving.

He was finally lashing back.

_I will not be ignored!_

They stood in silence, Z fighting to keep still and calm, moving her eyes to look over his shoulder and not into smoldering mercury flecked with sky and sun. The young woman's efforts were unnecessary; no sooner was she pinned did the silver haired boy plunge his nose into the column of her neck, breathing her in.

"Z," Allen sighed into her skin, causing an involuntary shiver. His eyes were a mix of hurt and fury when he pulled back, lips set in a fearsome little line. She swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth and willed herself to sink into the wall, far away to another time when looking at him again didn't fill her with anticipation and guilt. Extreme desire and the knowledge that such things could not happen because of their daily lives.

"What do you want, idiot? Can't you see I was going to bed?" Her harsh words did nothing more than amuse him, a humorless smirk pulling up the side of his mouth.

"Do I need to ask why you've been avoiding me?" Z scoffed but her heart wasn't in it, grateful when ebony ringlets swung in front of her eyes. "I knew you were dense, but I didn't think you were quite this stupid." She looked into his eyes to get her point across, steeling herself against the intensity of his demeanor.

"We're through. It was fun and shit, but I'm bored of you now. I had hoped to avoid confrontation but I guess some dumb shits like drama, huh?" Her words were stinging and monstrous to her own ears as they burst forth. Her chest squeezed in agony and protest, trying to suck the words back into her gullet and out of the air where they sat heavily rotting away. But still she stood tall, chin up in a facsimile of assurance.

It was silent. Allen closed his eyes, standing so close body heat permeated straight through Z. She wiggled but his hands flew to her wrists before she could escape, pinning her more soundly. She jumped when he finally barked a humorless laugh.

"Is that so? We're parting ways, just like that?" Z blinked, not understanding what he possibly found so amusing. "Yes. Now get the fuck out of my room." His eyes reopened and trained upon her, dangerously sharp. "You don't mean that."

"Yes. I do."

"No. You don't." She had forgotten she was crying, unpleasantly reminded when soft lips were pressed to a budding droplet, catching it before it slid down her cheek. She stiffened, eyes wide as his mouth traced her tears' pathways, ending with an open mouthed kiss on her chin.

"Get the fuck off me asshole!" A fit of embarrassment and fury rippled, Beastly Beauty managing to push the offender halfway across the room. Allen pulled himself up, body aflame with passion and frustration as Z pressed herself against the wall and as far from him as she could get. Her arms came up to encircled her body, eyes narrowed and furious for his innocent crimes.

"Why are you doing this?" The young man demanded, snarling a bit. His stance was guarded and tense, angry at being so far from her when he had missed her so. Angry for missing such a selfish, venomous, bitch. Angry because with every tear she dropped he felt his rage wane into anguish.

When he had first woken up back at the Order, his eyes immediately scanned his surroundings, jumping to the fierce and horrible conclusion that she was gone. Forever. That she had perished while he lay inert and helpless, probably sacrificing herself to give him another day. Of course. Some akuma had survived his onslaught, caught her off guard, did away with her before she even knew what was happening. While she knelt over him, trying to keep him with her.

Heavy heart, fear, and ardor pushing him out of his bed and to his feet like a physical force. His legs folded beneath him, wounds screaming and splitting. As he watched little blossoms of red appear on his pristine bandages, all he could see was her too still body, lying in the cold mud with bright eyes dimmed to the world and warm hands folded with more solemnity than she had ever showed in life. It took his breath away.

He fought to his feet, gasping and ignoring the tearing at the last of his stitches. A dropped platter of gauze and penicillin told him he had been discovered by a nurse, his frantic eyes taking in the panicked look on the young woman's face before he blacked out again.

His dream was full of blood and unseeing eyes.

When Allen woke again Lenalee was by his side, tears of joy racing down her face.

It was then he learned the truth.

Alive, well, and avoiding him.

It was an aching, throbbing sore hidden behind false joy and his plastered smile. Even when they talked about _her,_ asked about their relationship, he parried their questions without a single hint of his hurt and anger showing through. He'd balled it inside like he had always done, storing it until the guilty party finally came forward. And now that he had her, trapped and _afraid_, it all fell apart. All he wanted was to forgive her, hold her close and hum sweet words in her ear. The mere sight of her had been enough to soothe his temper.

He had worried for her. Cried out for her in his sleep. And here she was, lurking through the halls like a damn phantom, ignoring everyone and everything and _him._

"What is wrong with you Z? Why? _Why?_" His voice cracked under the weight and Z cringed further into the wall. "I told you! I'm bored of you now!"

"You're lying!"

"I warned you, didn't I? When I felt less I would leave! That I wouldn't stay if it wouldn't work!" Venom fell from her words, pooling at her feet. "And it hasn't! It won't! There's nothing you can do to change the fact that I hate you!"

"Then why are you crying, Z? Why do you weep over someone you despise so much?" Two treacherous tears escaped at the question and she sneered. "I cry out of exhaustion. I am driven to tears by my own fatigue but a selfish shit fuck refuses to leave me alone." Allen narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, noting the flash of anxiety that flitted through the girl's eyes at the movement. He paused in the middle of the floor, primarily concerned she would dash for the door and be gone.

"You always do this! Hide behind insults when there's no other exit for you and you know you're wrong! Because you're not strong enough to hold up a decent conversation without trying to hurt someone!"

"You're mad because I hurt your feelings?"

"No! Yes! Both!" He stumbled a bit before picking his confrontational tone back up. "It's bigger than that and you know it. It's not just about how I feel, it's how you've chosen to deal with…whatever it is you have to work out. The sooner you tell me what's wrong in that fucked up head of yours the sooner I can leave this behind me too! The sooner you can stop moping around!"

"So the unstoppable Allen Walker is the sacrifice to the wicked witch of The Order? Don't make me laugh! Why do you always have to play the fallen hero, the scapegoat of the people?" She snarled, eyes flashing. "Did they throw you at me? Try and hide behind you despite what may happen? Don't you know you're only one person? It's going to kill you, you fucking moron! You'll die and just expect me to deal with it!" Allen's eyes widened a fraction, clenched fists loosening. "It's not about our relationship, is it?"

Realizing her error, Z cinched her mouth shut and watched him.

"Leave."

"Z-"

She was across the floor in seconds moving in close to strike him again. He saw it coming this time, pulling her into a tight embrace that was more a bear hug than an act of affection.

She fought him more ferociously than she had fought being separated from him, fought the warmth and gratitude her body expressed from once again being close. She had left the well meaning Marie with bruises and scratches; she was hoping to tear Allen to shreds.

The kiss was rough and sudden, Allen swallowing Z's cries of resentment as she struggled, clawing at his arms and biting at his lips. He tasted blood as one of her incisors pierced his tongue, but paid no mind to the pain as he pressed her closer and waited for her to settle.

And she did.

It was too much to resist, her nerves were rubbed raw and her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She felt his arms loosen, but didn't break free, wrapping her hands in his shirt so that he wouldn't be the one to escape. He had better not even try after instigating this.

Everything about their movements was angry, heated, and made all the more heady because of it. It was a clingy battle of desperation between the two_. _They snapped and scuffed and pinched each other, their brows furrowed to keep them from forgetting the reason for their discontent but their lips moving in unison.

Z could taste his annoyance on his tongue as it entwined with hers. The frustration tensing his neck beneath her hands. The thrumming beat of a wounded heart pressed against her breasts. But she didn't want to stop, she didn't want him to take her words seriously at this moment of collision. She had spoken to hurt him and drive him away but only managed to pull him closer.

It was so irritating she could hit him, the stupid boy.

She settled for digging blunt nails into the tender flesh of his shoulder, earning a smothered growl in the back of his throat. He stopped kissing her in favor of biting her. Hard. Drawing forth a hiss from her mouth and crimson tears from her neck.

_Punishment._

Z wasn't sure how it happened and, in her heated fog, didn't really care. Allen pulled away, fingering the edge of her nightdress as though desperately wanting to see what lay beneath, his own shirt long discarded in the fray. The fire in her eyes leapt and snapped at him, challenging the almost terrifying want in his own. He leaned in again, close enough to mumble onto her lips and slip a hand beneath her clothes.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

She devoured his grin and chortle, mussing his hair and arching her back as he returned to her.

Sunlight eased through the window, landing gently upon silvery white hair and the brown hand smoothing it down. It was cold outside the soft blankets on the bed, and Z had no interest in baring herself to the chill air just yet.

This close she could see what she had passed over before, the subtle details in his face that she had never seen. How his ears pointed ever so slightly beneath his messy mop of hair. The delicate structure of his cheeks and nose, almost elfish in the fine way the bones were set. How his scar split his brow subtly, a shallow pit in his face that she traced with a single finger.

The top of his chest was visible, covered in small scars overshadowed by the long healed injury from his own sword. His most recent markings were pink and puckered, still in the healing process but well enough that he no longer required bandages. She brought her hand to these as well, trying to engrain his body on her fingertips for future knowledge.

Z realized what she had done, a strange mixture of disappointment and amusement boiling in her blood. For surely only her luck would allow resistance to turn into surrender so easily, for her powerful will to be crushed with the gentlest of touches. Now she would _never _be rid of him. Forget the sin (she was sure God had better things to do than shake his head at two unmarried people in the heat of a moment) they now shared a bond that she knew he would hold dear. And, upon reflection, she cherished it too.

Gently pulling her body forward, careful not to shake the bed and wake him, Z pressed her bare chest to his, brushing their lips together in contentment before burrowing into his neck.

A hand stirred to life on her hip, traveling over the curve in her waist to rest at the base of her neck. Allen reeled her in for another, slower kiss, broken when he yawned. Z wrinkled her nose. Lovers or not, she hated morning breath.

The two exorcists looked at each other for a moment before the young man broke into a shit eating grin. The only place he could've learned that was Lavi…or maybe even Cross.

"You're glowing," he hummed teasingly, kissing her nose. Z huffed. "I don't 'glow'."

"Apparently you do." She huffed again, opting not to fight first thing in the morning. He chuckled, in too good a mood to pursue the conversation further. They were silent, sensing the castle stir to wakefulness around them. Allen made a small noise in the back of his throat, causing Z to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" He shook his head, still smiling. "I guess I…didn't think you'd still be here when I woke up. It's nice to open my eyes to you."

"It's _my _room. Shouldn't I have been the worried one?" Allen's arms tightened, eyes intense as they gazed over her head. "No. I wouldn't leave you, Z. Not unless you wanted me to." Something in the way he said it, in the way he held her so close, brought her guilt of previous days back to haunt her. She took a shuttered breath, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She could practically hear him raise an eyebrow. "I didn't hear you. Can you say that again?" Z frowned, pinching the tender flesh of his chest to show her displeasure. He jumped and protested, but she ignored him. "I'm sorry. There." She pried herself from his arms and lifted her sore body off the bed.

As she scooped the nearest article of clothing, Allen's discarded shirt, she heard him sit up to watch her dress. A strange shock of proud embarrassment ran through her as she felt his eyes. "Why?" _Pourquoi? _He wanted to know why? Z stumbled a bit, trying to sift through her words. "Because…I should've…could've…" she was hoping he would just accept her apology, but no. He wanted more than that. He wanted an explanation. She sighed and averted her eyes from the figure the morning sun was embracing so dearly. Damn him. No one should look like _that_ when they wake up. Like they were just waiting for someone to jump into bed with them. "I don't want you dead, asshole."

"Why?" Bastard. He was _enjoying _this. Her discomfort, the power he held over her similar to his domination the night before. Not to say she didn't _like _it. She was quickly becoming aware that it may have been her "kink", being forced into a submissive role that she would never encounter otherwise. To have him guiding her, strong and forceful and…

"It would hurt," Z muttered, face heated from the train of thought she had halted. She turned from the young man lounging on her bed. "It _did _hurt. It would be better if this never happened. If I ended it before it got any worse." Allen sighed through his nose, sliding off the bed. He hadn't wanted to get up and was sorely disappointed when she had. Her bed was comfortable, the same type of mattress that he was in his room but this one smelled like her. Something feminine and light that he couldn't find anywhere else. He wanted to spend the morning there, her in his arms, napping and talking. Maybe someday they could.

"No. I don't think it would be better." Z shook her head, but didn't ask why. He responded to her unasked question and came to stand behind her after pulling on his discarded pants. "You would still…I would still…need this. Each other." He wrapped his hands around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as her back met his chest.

"Because if we stopped it now we would guarantee pain everyday instead of just chancing it. Then we would know we wouldn't be happy instead of just fearing the possible. Right?" He smiled that smile, the one that could light up rooms and outshine the sun. A smile that caused warmth to pool in her stomach and her body to draw even closer to him. If that was possible; their legs were entangled, her arms resting on his, bodies pressed together.

Z's face twitched into a scowl. "You've…given this some thought, too?" He sighed into her ear. "Of course. I mean, I couldn't just ignore it. But unlike you," he pinched her, payback for the twist she had given his chest. "I tried to think of why we _should _keep on." Now she smelled like both of them, his shirt and her flesh meeting in the middle.

There was something primal in the draw of her in his clothing, like the second she had pulled her arms through the sleeves she had marked herself as his. Similar to the bruise-like splotches he'd left on her neck and chest, this was another way to mark her as a taken woman.

And although her body language was agreeable, leaning back against him and emitting an irresistible heat, when Allen turned her around to press his lips to her forehead her eyes spoke another tongue altogether. Z was confused and culpable, needing to be with herself in order to sort her thoughts. The young man understood -was a bit disappointed, needed a cold shower- but accepted.

"Take a shower," he mumbled into her temple, "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Happy Christmas Eve's Eve!" Lavi gushed merrily, throwing himself at the table and properly startling Miranda. The jumpy German gave him one of her shaky smiles before returning to her porridge and, like the rest of the Mess Hall, watching the two sitting across the table.

She felt guilty just listening to the rumors surrounding her friends, but without proper information she could hardly question the words being whispered around her. She didn't know what to do, how to deal with the situation other than apologizing. And because Zahara had been both scary and allusive lately, the insomniac was forced to thrust her repentance upon Allen every time she saw him. Although he was constantly assuring her that as long as she didn't partake of the rumor spreading she wasn't to blame, she went running to him whenever she heard his name in the same sentence as Zahara's.

Miranda finally stopped a day earlier, when Lenalee pointed out that the mere mention of Zahara's name caused a strange, almost undetectable wince to appear on his face. Of course she had to apologize for causing him such pain, but she was careful not to mention the rumors again.

So when the two most talked about people walked into the Mess Hall _together_ she was struck silent in apprehension of what could possibly be happening and why and how and….

Oh. This was all so confusing.

Miranda covered her blushing face with a shaky hand, her friends left to wonder if they should offer comfort or if this was just another one of her episodes. They voted the latter when the woman nearly fainted as the dramatically discussed couple sat directly across from her, not touching but sitting close enough for Z to hold the hand not shoveling food. Of course Miranda had noticed this nearly a month ago. She knew that something was going on with them way before anyone else, but she was afraid to point it out lest she accidentally lie.

"We should meet in the library later guys," Lenalee was saying, a hand rubbing Miranda's back in the wake of this internal conflict. "They lit the fireplace. We can roast chestnuts and tell stories. We could probably ask Jerry to make us some cocoa too!" The Chinese girl made eye contact with Allen, her eyes flickering to Z and back again without her realizing it. There was a weary question hovering in the air, one not completely covered by her accommodating face.

Allen smiled indulgently, squeezing Z's hand for no particular reason. Like he was just glad she was there. Z looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, relishing in the little burst of warmth in her chest. "That sounds like fun, Lenalee. Do you think he'd be willing to bring cookies too?" Z rolled her eyes but there was a faint smile on her face. He knew how she loved cookies. "Ginger bread would be nice. And proper for the holiday, right?" After Z's long silence, the table seemed shocked she had spoken so easily, a certain glow about her person and the shadows on her face much lighter. Lenalee smiled at her friend, glad that her sadness had finally come to an end and she was regaining her appetite.

"So you guys make-up, or what?" A pin was heard falling to the floor, Lavi's statement classic for his personality; dead serious and direct, but somehow spoken lightly. A glittering green eye inspected the two with increasing curiosity, making Z weary of this situation ending up in a book of some sort. Judging by the twitch under Allen's smile and the pause of spoon to mouth motions, he was thinking something similar. This moment felt broadcast throughout the room.

"Yes."

"You could say that." The cafeteria took a breath. Lavi grinned that same shit eating grin that had made Z want to hit Allen not two hours before. "So you guys made the beast with two backs? Make-up sex is the best, right?" Allen froze, so much red on his face he looked to be an aspiring lobster. The spoon fell from his fingers and landed in his glass of water as spasms racked his body and his breaths became little more than little squeaks of disbelief. He was clearly trying to reprimand Lavi for such (true) insinuations but couldn't get over his own shock and embarrassment.

Z, unfortunately for Lavi, was not as affected.

Somewhere between her leaping across the table and delivering devastating fists to his face and body, he was heard crying out "worth it!" Everyone could agree the shriek of this attrition victory was after she had grabbed him by the collar, in middle of her throwing him across the room, but before she attempted to brain him with a pineapple. It was at this point Allen tried to break them up and received a prickly fruit to the face.


End file.
